


Your Daddy Knows (You're A Flame)

by Ladderofyears



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aroused Draco, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners Harry and Ron, Background Case-Fic, Background Potion Smuggling Case, Barbecue, Besotted Harry, Birthday Party, Birthday Presents, Body Image, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Boys In Love, Cafe Lunch, Diagon Alley, Domestic Fluff, Draco Loves Gardening, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Draco Wearing Lacy Knickers, Draco's Birthday, Draco's Clothes Are Getting Tight, EVERYBODY knows Draco is pregnant, Erections, Family Shopping Trip, Fatherhood, Gentle Sex, H/D Wireless 2020, M/M, Mentions of Waters Breaking, Mentions of childbirth, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Pansy Parkinson/Theo Nott, Morning Sickess (Offscreen and Not Graphic), Mpreg, Nesting, Nipple Play, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Oblivious Draco, Parenthood, Pensieves, Pregnant Hermione Granger, Pregnant Sex, Professional Herbologist Draco, Proud Dad Draco, Proud Dad Harry, SO FLUFFY, Sex without a Condom, Shower Sex, So Incredibly Fluffy, So Married, Songfic, Stay-At-Home Parent Draco, Unplanned Pregnancy, Very happy ending, baby's first steps, domestic magic, emotional draco, except him, pregnancy symptoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24420799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: It's just over a week until Draco's twenty-fifth birthday party and Harry Potter is a busy wizard. Amongst all the excitement of fatherhood, work and friends, Harry realises something special about his husband Draco. He is pregnant with their second, much wanted baby.There's only one problem: Draco is entirely oblivious to the fact and seems determined to remain so.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 32
Kudos: 687
Collections: HD Wireless 2020





	1. Thursday 27th May 2005

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to all the Mods of this brilliant fest. You're all so amazing. Thank you so much for all your hard work. 
> 
> I also want to thank all the fellow members of the Drarry Fans, Writer and Artists Discord for sprinting with me. This is by far the longest thing I have every written and I couldn't have done it without your support. 
> 
> Thank you PW, my BBFF. You make me laugh every single day. 
> 
> Written for H/D Wireless 2020 and based on the lyrics of Sade's 2010 song Babyfather: _'And so love grew a flower/A flower that is you.'_

**_Thursday 27th May 2005_ **

“Bloody hell,” Draco whined, pushing his bowl of Every Flavour Beans into Harry’s lap. “I have to pee again. Pause this Muggle nonsense would you? I’ve already committed too much time to give up on it now-”

Harry pressed their TV remote, freezing their television on a particularly realistic looking dragon. Someone in the production of the show was definitely a wizard. 

“Again?” Harry asked, chasing a green jelly bean around the bowl with his fingers. He hoped it was mint flavoured, rather than the quite vile cabbage one that he’d snagged the week before. “Is everything okay?” he asked belatedly. “You’re weeing like a Hippogriff on heat, love. Every five minutes.”

Draco gave him a withering look from the doorway. “Merlin, but that’s a revolting saying and no, there’s nothing _wrong_ with me. A few too many teas with Pansy earlier is all.”

Harry looked up at Draco affectionately. “I just care is all,” he said, dropping the jelly bean back in the bowl. Best not to risk it. “And you don’t need to be coy with me, Malfoy. We’ve had a baby together, remember? No point being shy with me after that.” 

Draco’s only reply was a dismissive shake of his head. He turned around and sauntered primly out of the room and Harry let his eyes trail over his husband’s retreating back. 

Draco was as gorgeous as ever, his supple hips clad in low slung, silky pyjama bottoms and an old Harpies tee shirt that skirted over his physique, clinging in all the right places. 

Draco didn’t believe that his body was as tidy as it’d been before Isadora had been born nine months before but Harry couldn't see any flaws whatsoever. In his opinion, Draco looked more beautiful than he ever had before, the slight, with silvery stretch marks patterning his tummy the only evidence on his body of the daughter that they’d made together. Isa and Draco were the brightest stars in Harry’s sky and he still couldn't get over how lucky he was to share his life with them both. 

It was only a few minutes before Draco returned and sat down next to Harry, curling in close to his side. Harry flicked the switch on their remote and the action blared back into life on the screen. 

Draco had a strange relationship with Muggle technology. He claimed to loathe it, yet often his husband could barely draw his eyes from the screen. He’d confessed to Harry that he struggled to understand sometimes that it wasn’t all real and now, as a dragon soared over a ruined city, Draco clutched tight to his hand. Even Harry had to admit that the beast looked a little too close to a Hungarian Horntail to be entirely easy viewing. 

The pair of them watched in silence for a moment, focussing on the action on the screen and Harry snaked a comforting arm around Draco’s shoulders. 

Harry loved these precious moments at the end of their days, when Isa was safely tucked up in her little cot upstairs, her bedroom charmed to keep her cool and comfy and a monitoring spell set to keep her safe. 

Photographs of their little girl covered every wall, jostling for space alongside older pictures of their friends and family. The only light in the room came from the late May dusk that lit the sky over their Grimmauld Place gardens and from their wands, set to shine a subtle Lumos over the sitting room. He leant over and pressed a loving kiss into Draco’s soft hair. 

But, two minutes later, Draco was fidgeting once more. 

“Harry,” he asked, “shall I get us some of those mini-Pumpkin Pasties that I brought from the Elven bakery on the way home? My tummy is grumbling and _some_ wizard that I’m not going to name ate all the Every Flavour Beans-”

Harry was surprised at Draco’s muttered question. His husband didn’t usually have such a sweet tooth and Pumpkin Pasties, with their red glacé cherries and their thick ginger icing were normally a source of particular disdain for the blond wizard. 

Harry glanced over, shaking his head in lieu of a reply. Harry was full up after the Pasta Alfredo that the three of them had shared for dinner and the large packet of Bertie Botts that they’d split after their daughter had gone to bed. He didn’t quite know where Draco was intending to put his extra Pumpkin Pasties either. His husband had eaten a second portion of pasta at their dinner table, declaring it the finest thing that he had ever tasted. 

Draco was up and on his feet in moments, stopping only to pick up his wand before diving avidly out of the door. Harry paused the television, listening in bemusement. He could hear Draco diving into their pantry and the rustle of paper packaging before he heard the sound of cupboards opening and closing. 

This behaviour wasn’t at _all_ typical for his beloved. Draco was normally too lazy to get himself off the settee once they had settled down for the evening so his husband must really be peckish. 

Harry signed quietly. All this fussing and flitting about reminded Harry vividly of how Draco had been when he was first pregnant with Isa. The other wizard’s appetite had been ferocious then too, and he’d gotten quite possessive over food. The simple threat of pinching chips from Malfoy’s plate had been enough to get the other wizard annoyed and threatening all manner of different hexes. Harry had thoroughly enjoyed teasing him whenever he got the chance. 

Draco returned from the Grimmauld kitchen after several minutes and roused Harry from his daydreams. He had quite lost the thread of whatever it was that they were supposed to be watching. Draco levitated several bowls in front of him as he walked through the doorway, all of them overflowing with sweet and sugary snacks. 

“I decided to get you a couple of Pumpkin Pasties anyway,” Draco announced, landing the bowls quietly on their coffee table with a twist of his wand. “I didn’t want your great mitts pinching any of mine. I know what you’re like Potter,” he smirked, slumping back down heavily into his spot beside Harry. “I’m not in the mood to share.”

Harry laughed at Draco’s barely concealed warning. “You never _are_ ,” he replied, laughing, and watching as Draco began to devour his Pumpkin Pasty. Harry took a sip of his Butterbeer, feeling his interest in the fantasy world on his television start to vanish. Draco was silent for a second before he leant back into his chair, muffling a small burp with the back of his hand. “Circe,” Harry commented. “Slow down love! You practically inhaled that one.”

Draco patted his tummy over his tee shirt. “Couldn’t help it,” he said, finishing his sentence with a yawn. “I’m hungry tonight. Must be the change in temperature I suppose. Heat always plays havoc with my belly.” Draco yawned again and placed his empty bowl on the floor. “Be a love and pass me my orange juice would you?”

“What did your last House Elf die of?” Harry smirked. He did as he was told and sat watching as Draco took a long swallow and gulped down the last third of his glass. “You’re in an odd mood tonight,” he remarked. “Fidgety… _Restless_. Like you’ve got a nest of nargles in your belly or something. There’s anything that you’ve forgotten to tell me?”

Draco frowned. “Don’t think so,” he said, unwrapping a Chocolate Frog and lifting it out the packet between two practised fingers. The sweet treat wriggled a little, threatening to jump away before Draco popped it into his mouth. He chewed elegantly before he continued to speak. “No. Today was just a regular, boring Thursday. Met Pansy and Astoria over at the Green Toadstool baby group… Then I went back to Pan’s place for the afternoon, same as usual. Ate cakes. Drank tea. Flooed home about an hour or so before you did.”

That sounded like a pleasant day and Harry lent over to give his husband a chaste peck on his cheek. Draco smelt sweet, like the syrupy Pasties and Bertie Botts beans that he’d been eating, combined with the lily scent of their daughter’s shampoo. Sometimes Draco shared his bathtub with her, using the time to give his own hair a speedy wash. Harry found the whole idea endearing, especially since Draco had been so prissy about expensive hair products before Isa had been born. 

Harry took another swallow of his Pumpkin Juice. “It’s normally me raiding the pantry is all,” Harry said slowly. “And you seem a bit- Well, you seem a bit busy tonight. A bit antsy. _And _you ate two plates of pasta less than two hours ago.”__

__“And I told you then, Potter that your Alfredo was scrumptious! I can’t help it if I married such a good cook, can I?” Draco pouted. He looked down at the front of his Harpies tee shirt and patted the front before a quizzical, horrified expression washed over his face._ _

__“Oh Merlin. You’re not saying that I’ve gotten _fat_ are you? Because you must know that my metabolism has been absolutely bloody _cursed_ since Isa was born and-”_ _

__“Oh _shush_ ,” Harry said, mildly shocked that Draco had fallen straight into self-recrimination. It was true that his husband had struggled slightly with losing the last couple of pounds that he’d gained during Isadora’s pregnancy but that hadn’t mattered a single sickle to Harry. Draco had always looked desirable and attractive in Harry’s eyes. “I was just concerned, that’s all lovely. You know how I get. Always looking for a problem to solve.”_ _

__“Always such a Saviour,” Draco cut in, giving Harry a small, reluctant smile. His grey eyes were still hooded and dark though. Harry knew that he wasn’t forgiven quite yet._ _

__“Yeah. Always the Saviour,” Harry repeated, pleased to know that he’d been forgiven but unsure as to why Draco had felt the need to knock himself down so quickly. That wasn’t like his beloved at all. Normally Draco was upbeat about his post-pregnancy body.“You must know that I’d never put you down, Draco,” he said, stoking a careful finger over his husband’s jaw. “You look amazing and you always have done. I wasn’t criticising, promise. If you’re hungry then eat, _please!_ ”_ _

__Draco finished his orange juice. He carefully placed the glass on a coaster before he spoke again._ _

__“I’m sorry,” Draco said eventually, the clouds finally lifting from his expression. “I know I’ve been a bit off tonight, Potter. I’ve just not felt much like myself the last few days. I feel perfectly bloody bloated yet I’m constantly thinking about what to eat next.” His cheeks pinked. “Pans told me that I was in a curious mood this afternoon too,” Draco admitted. “The pair of us were looking at photographs of Isa and Maeve when they were first born… I have to confess that I actually got a bit tearful. I don’t know what came over me. That’s the thing, Harry. You don’t notice your child changing when you’re beside them everyday.”_ _

__Harry nodded, bewildered at his husband's admission. Draco loved Isadora more than anything else on the earth but he wasn’t usually a wizard to wear his emotions on his sleeve in that way. He stroked a stray tuft of hair across Draco’s forehead._ _

__“No, you don’t,” Harry agreed, “and I miss our tiny newborn too… Sometimes I wonder who that big girl is, so close to taking her first steps and saying her first word. It hardly feels like any time has passed since the day she was born.”_ _

__Draco lapsed into silence after that and Harry clicked the play button. The dragon on the screen swooped and dived, but Harry found himself unable to follow the plot. All of his attention was focussed on his beloved, sat huddled beside him._ _

__Draco had cuddled his body in close to Harry’s own and the wizard radiated a pleasing warmth. For the first time that evening Draco seemed calm, his eyes finally trained on the screen._ _

__His husband’s nervous energy seemed finally to have drained away and Harry felt his eyes start to droop. It had been a long and very difficult few weeks in the Auror Department but Harry could feel the threads in his current case beginning to unknot._ _

__The two wizards flinched when a small, muffled mewling noise suddenly broke through the silence. It was their monitoring spell, warning them both that Isadora had awoken. Harry paused their show once more. Draco sat bolt upright, poised to run upstairs if his daughter needed him, but no further cries followed. It seemed like Isa was simply having a bad dream._ _

__“I don’t think she’s really awake,” Harry said, more to reassure himself than anything else. “She went to bed with a full tummy. She shouldn’t be hungry yet.”_ _

__Draco snorted. “Famous last words, Potter! You’ve bloody jinxed us now. She’ll be up for the rest of the night.” He swirled his wand, resetting the monitoring spell but there weren't any further sounds. “Let’s just watch the end of this show and get to bed,” Draco muttered. “If she’s going to be finicky all night then I need to get some rest.”_ _

__The relaxed calm between the two wizards was broken after that. Harry restarted the television but Draco was inattentive and restless, rolling his wand between his fingers and looking distractedly towards the door with every few minutes that passed._ _

__Harry knew his husband’s tells well enough to know that he was fretting. Draco wanted to go upstairs, check on their daughter and then slide in between their bedsheets. He picked up the remote and pressed pause once again. “Go on,” Harry urged. “Go and check on Isa if it’ll make you feel better… Don’t forget your silencing charm. You don’t want to wake the little pixie if you can help it.”_ _

__Draco yawned and stood up. “I’m on it,” he said, giving Harry a half-smile and pushing his wand into his pocket. “I might get into bed afterwards,” Draco paused in the doorway and yawned loudly. “If you don’t mind too terribly. Don’t be long though, Potter. You know I can’t abide that gigantic bed of ours without you to cuddle up with.”_ _

__Harry looked at his husband’s retreating form and half-wondered whether it was even worth watching the end of the show. He’d lost interest in most of the plot and the last ten minutes had been a mystery to him. Harry listened for a few more minutes, but their monitoring charm was silent._ _

__Isadora was fast asleep and there was little doubt that Draco wrapped up in their summer quilt and slumbering too._ _

__His husband had been fast asleep before his head had even hit the pillow in recent weeks and not even their daughter’s noisy cries had been enough to wake him._ _

__Harry watched the television with unseeing eyes._ _

__Now that he really thought about it, Draco’s behaviour had been a little out of character for a while now. Draco was so tired so much of the time. Then there was the incessant need to wee, the raw emotionality and the frankly mammoth appetite, all of which seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He was irritable about his appearance too and that wasn’t like Draco at all. It was all very odd._ _

__Harry yawned. He was weary too. The DMLE had been taking a lot of his time and energy and suddenly the settee felt a little too big without Draco’s presence beside him._ _

__He cast a Tempus and Harry was astonished to find that it was long past eleven. _Merlin_. Where had their evening gotten to? _ _

__He yawed once more and switched off the television. He’d finish the show tomorrow if he remembered._ _

__With a twirl of his wand, Harry scooped up all the plates, bowls and bottles and banished them to the kitchen. He decided to charm them clean before he left for work the following day. It wasn’t fair to leave them for Draco to deal with._ _

__Draco’s behaviour was curious. There was something familiar about his beloved but, for the life of him, Harry couldn’t imagine when he’d seen it before. He Nox’ed the downstairs lights and began to climb up the staircase to bed, kicking a few of Isadora’s toy animals out of the way as he went._ _

__Harry decided to push his worries to the back of his mind. Draco’s twenty-fifth birthday was in just over a week._ _

__The blond wizard was probably feeling peevish about reaching his quarter-century._ _

__~*~*~_ _


	2. Saturday 29th May 2005

**_Saturday 29th May 2005_ **

The next day disappeared more quickly than a grain of sand through a timer. 

Ron and he had been really fortuitous and had caught a vital break in their dogged pursuit of an illegal potion smuggler. An Azkaban resident, desperate for the clemency of the Wizengamot, had decided to give up critical information about the location of a safe-house used by several co-conspirators. 

The criminal’s lair had been raided as a result of her information so nearly all of Harry’s Friday had been spent cataloguing the arcane and dangerous ingredients that had been revealed in the process. 

This was hot scruffy work and dreadfully boring to boot, but a sadly vital part of the justice process. 

_The Prophet_ seemed perennially convinced that an Auror’s job was non-stop action but in Harry’s experience the truth was often the opposite. Writing up detailed parchment reports was a huge and very time-consuming part of Harry’s job. 

Seven years in the Auror Department had taught Harry that nothing secured a conviction in the Wizengamot like a vast pile of tagged, recorded evidence. 

As Friday afternoon had ticked by Harry had been forced to admit to himself that a six o’clock finish was looking increasingly unlikely. 

Neither he, nor Ron were able to leave the Dark Wizard’s lair without wrapping every last phial of Acrommantula Potion into a stasis spell and numbering each accordingly. Even with the two of them working together and skipping every break the task seemed to take forever. Both Harry and his best-mate, had been forced to admit defeat as four fifty-five rolled around. They’d both firecalled their spouses to say they’d be late home. 

It had past midnight before Harry had been able to floo home to Grimmauld Place. Harry had cursed silently under his breath as he’d hung up his coat and kitbag, feeling both robbed and exhausted. He’d missed his precious evening with Draco and Isadora entirely and his weekend couldn’t start quickly enough. 

Harry felt _more_ than ready for it. 

Saturday dawned bright and beautiful. Harry quirked open an eye and spread his arm across the quilt but he was disappointed to find it empty. The material was cool under his fingertips, devoid of any body warmth. As was his usual habit, Draco had risen early and left Harry to sleep in. 

Draco was an established early riser, a custom that had been formed when he’d lived at home at the Manor. Lucius hadn’t wanted a work-shy, indolent son and so, from a very young age, the older wizard had gotten Draco up with the dawn. Lucius had wanted Draco to learn Estate Management and all the accomplishments of an aristocrat. 

Draco’s life hadn’t turned out anything like Lucius might have planned for him but the habit of waking early had stuck to him like a curse. Harry Accio’ed his dressing gown. He shrugged it over his shoulders before poking his toes into his slippers. He descended the stairs quietly, knowing precisely where he’d find his husband. 

Harry ambled out of the patio doors and into their busy, beautiful garden. 

The Grimmauld gardens were Draco’s coveted domain and Harry wasn’t in the least bit surprised to see his beloved crouched beside his prized Alihotsy shrub with a pair of pruning shears in his hands. 

The other wizard was entirely engrossed in the cutting and trimming and Harry looked on admiringly at the sight. Draco’s whole face was a mask of focus as Harry watched him gently bite at his bottom lip, his grey eyes continuously scanning for any signs of blight or bugs. 

Harry hadn’t been at all convinced when Draco had decided to build himself a magical garden but now, with the early morning sun shining, the Moly in full bloom and the delicate scent of Valerian filling his nostrils, Harry was starting to understand why Draco enjoyed gardening so much. 

“I missed you last night,” Harry said softly, walking out onto the dewy grass. Draco’s hand stilled at the sound of his voice, and he turned around, a smile brightening his pointy features. 

Draco’s hair was still fluffy from bed and he wore a scruffy, holey Gryffindor Quidditch shirt that Harry had given him for a joke present not long after they’d fallen in love. It amused Harry that such a supposedly reviled present found its way onto Draco’s back as often as it did. This was an easy, laid-back Draco that was reserved for Harry alone. 

“As did I,” Draco replied with a gentle smile. “I _tried_ to stay up love, I swear to Godric but when eleven rolled around the sleep just washed over me… You ought to have woken me when you got in though. What time did you come to bed?”

“I flooed in after midnight,” Harry continued, walking over to stand beside Draco, “but it was worth it. Ron and I catalogued enough evidence to put the felon in Azkaban for a good few years at least.” 

“That’s excellent,” Draco replied, placing his pruning shears on the floor beside him. “You know how much I worry, Potter. Can’t abide the idea of one of those criminals getting close to you… My evening was considerably less exciting. Once I’d put Isa down to sleep in her cot I went to bed with a novel,” Draco winced then and Harry noticed him rub the base of his back distractedly. “The book wasn’t quite as good company as you but I suppose it sufficed for a short while- _Ooof!_ Help me back on my feet would you?”

Harry jumped to attention, proffering his arm and taking Draco’s weight as the other wizard stood up and steadied himself. Harry wasn’t keen on the idea of Draco gardening when his back was playing up, so the two men worked as a team to quickly put away the few tools that his husband had been using. 

It only took them a few minutes before their garden was a clear and safe space once more. It was the Potter-Malfoy family’s turn to host their friends and their children the following day and it wouldn’t have done to have anything dangerous where small, inquisitive hands might have decided to explore and hurt themselves. 

“You’ve hurt your back again?” Harry asked, pulling Draco into an easy embrace. “Remember what the Healer said after you came out of the hospital with Isa? You know that your ligaments aren't that strong-” 

“It’s only a twinge,” Draco said promptly, “Nothing to worry about.” He raised his eyebrows at Harry and made a blatant attempt to change the subject. “ _Mmm_. Look at you. All sleep tousled and unshaven. You don’t get less gorgeous, do you Potter?” 

Harry preened under Draco’s compliment and then the pair of them shared an unceremonious morning kiss, their only company the breeze and the birdsong. 

Their teasing kisses might well have developed into something more but the two wizards were forced to pull apart with a resigned sigh when a familiar cry tore through the morning peace surrounding them. Isadora had woken, triggering Draco’s monitoring spell and Harry felt the same flame of excitement rumble through his belly that he always did just before he saw his baby. 

“I’ll go get her,” Harry said, learning over to brush his lips over Draco’s mouth for a final time. “You go and rest that back for a few minutes before it gets worse. I don’t want you shuffling around in pain on your birthday, love. I’ll get her changed and sorted. Are you sure that you’re okay, sweetheart?”

Draco rolled his eyes but there wasn’t any heat in his gesture. “Don’t fuss so much,” Draco replied. “I’m just a bit achy is all,” he yawned. “It’s a spring cold. Nothing to worry about. You get Isa and I’ll start making breakfast in a couple of minutes.” 

Harry bounded up the stairs, eager to give his baby the cuddle that he’d been denied the night before. He was still passionate about his work in the Auror Department but was really aware that the odd and often lengthy hours were tough on Draco. Harry had endless esteem for the unstinting love that Draco lavished on their little daughter. 

Draco was a professional Herbologist but he’d chosen to take a few years away from his work. He had wanted to dedicate his time to Isadora’s early years, explaining that he didn’t want to miss even a moment of her childhood. 

Draco had been raised by a series of Elf-Nannies whilst he was a youngster, and while he’d loved each and everyone of them, Harry knew that he’d missed his own parents dreadfully. The time-honoured Pureblood tradition was that their children were seen and not heard until they got their Hogwarts letter and Draco was determined to do things differently with his own offspring. 

Harry pushed open the door to his babies room and with a tiny flick of his wand set a Lumos to glow above her. 

Isa’s chubby, perfect little legs already held her upright and she bounced with joy, holding tightly to the wooden side of her cot. 

Draco had taken the utmost care decorating Isadora’s room when he was pregnant. Draco had been so big when he’d decorated the nursery. Harry remembered how perfectly Draco had magicked the constellations onto the ceiling and how skilfully he had painted and enchanted the woodland scene that adorned the four walls. His husband had been closing in on his due date but his nesting instinct had been powerful. Draco had refused to be deterred by Harry’s worries and concerns. 

“Dadadada,” Isa babbled, staring at Harry with her wide greeny-grey eyes and Harry fell in love all over again, just like he did every single time he laid eyes on his baby. 

Their little girl favoured both the Potter and the Malfoy sides of her heritage equally, with a pile of untidy blond curls on the top of her head and what was unmistakably Lily Potter’s nose between her pink cheeks. Even though Isa had been the queen of his and Draco’s world since the day she had been born, Harry struggled sometimes still to believe that Isadora was theirs to keep forever. He was the proudest dad in wizarding and Harry didn’t need to be told that Isa was unquestionably the prettiest baby that had ever lived. 

She gave Harry a wet, gummy smile and he felt his heart swell with adoration. 

Without further ado Harry swooped her up into his arms. Her tiny hands grabbed hold of fistfuls of his dressing gown and her blond head nuzzled into his chest like always. Even though Isa was a long way off being able to make full words yet, Harry knew without a doubt that he and Draco were loved fiercely. 

The intensity his paternal feelings had come as a shock to Harry and he’d felt a raw fresh grief for his own parents. Harry only wished they could have met Isadora, even once, for he felt sure that they would have cared for her every bit as much as Draco and he did. 

“My little beautiful,” Harry said, kissing the soft tight curls that sat close to her head. Their Magi-Midwife had thought that Isa’s newborn tufts might fall out after the first few months but Harry had known better. Potter hair was terribly stubborn and it looked like her curls were here to stay. He only hoped that the obstinate knots that plagued his life wouldn’t try Isadora’s nerves too much as she got older. “Did you have a good sleep? I missed you last night.” 

Harry picked up the multicoloured chenille blanket that had been one of many knitted by Molly, and wrapped it snugly around her shoulders. 

“Shall we go and see your other daddy?” Harry wondered aloud, carrying Isa out of her bedroom. “I caught him outside in the garden again this morning,” he said, making conversation with his little darling as he carried her carefully back down the stairs. “Sometimes I half-wonder if he loves those plants of his more than us.” 

He opened the door to the living room with a nod of wandless magic and found Draco napping on the sofa. There was the latest copy of the _Journal of Modern Herbology_ lain on the floor where it has slipped from his husband’s hands. 

Isadora began to squirm and wriggle excitedly as soon as she saw Draco and Harry felt his chest swell with pride that these two wix were his very own family. Harry was constantly amazed by the special bond that Draco and Isa had. The other wizard had nursed Isadora exclusively for her first five months and after that he’d made all her weaning purees from scratch. 

Draco had made sniffy noises about not wanting to feed her ‘processed Muggle rubbish’ but Harry had known the truth of the matter. Draco had simply wanted their baby to flourish. Now, as Harry placed Isa on the floor and she crawled gleefully over toward her other daddy, Harry knew that everyone of Draco’s sleepless nights and his faffy, nourishing food choices had been worth it. Their little girl really was thriving. 

Harry and Draco had taken Isa to St. Mungos for her check-up only two weeks before and the Healer on duty had been more than pleased with her development targets. Her Magical Cortex examination had come back with a resounding positive so there was no doubt about it: their small daughter was going to be a powerful little witch before many more years had passed. 

It took next to no time at all for Isa to crawl to the edge of the settee and Harry watched as she pulled herself up onto wobbly legs. 

Harry itched to go over and give her a helping hand, but he shoved his hands into his pockets to resist the temptation. Hermione had already chastised him for doing too much for Isa. ‘Babies have to learn to be independent,’ she’d informed Harry more than once. “You need to give her a chance to succeed.’ 

Truthfully, Harry didn’t think that many more days would pass before Isadora took her very first steps. She was fascinated by her chubby toes and tried to stand up on them at every available opportunity. As soon as Isa had begun to cruise Draco and Harry had frantically charmed their furniture with baby-proofing spells. 

“Are you going to wake daddy?” Harry asked aloud and Isadora looked back, giving Harry a very Malfoy-esque smirk. Then she tapped Draco’s hand with her pudgy fingers. 

“Daa-daaaaadada,” she shouted happily, as loud as her small lungs could manage. “Dadaaada!”

Draco’s eyes flew open and Harry watched as his husband’s face transformed with love into a broad guileless smile. 

Draco never looked more stunning than when he was looking at his daughter. “ _Ma petit bebe_ ,” he laughed, sweeping Isadora into his lap and pressing a dozen speedy kisses all over her face. “Awoken from my slumber by my two favourite people in the world.” He yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t know what came over me, Potter,” he admitted over Isa’s shoulder, his grey eyes still misty from sleep. “I thought I’d read my journal and then the words just swam in front of my eyes.”

Isa buried her head in the soft cotton of Draco’s Quidditch top and the blond wizard tickled her with long lithe fingers, merciless in his teasing. Draco knew all of Isadora’s favourite tickle-spots and very soon Harry heard the sound of their baby daughter’s high pitched giggles fill the room. It was the prettiest sound that he thought he’d ever heard and very soon her whole little body had collapsed into a cuddle. 

Draco ran his hand lightly over Isa’s unicorn-patterned babygro and dropped a last kiss on the top of her head. “Nothing like a morning snuggle,” Draco said cheerfully. “Best thing in the world to start the day with.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “She was overjoyed when I went in his morning,” Harry replied, sitting down beside his loved ones on the settee, “dancing in her cot. I love it when she’s cuddly like this.” 

Harry raised an inquisitive eyebrow behind the lenses of his glasses as he saw Draco muffle another yawn behind his spare hand. There were dark smudges beneath his husband’s eyes and, in the bright morning sunshine, his face looked wan and pinched. Despite all the extra Pumpkin Pasties and second portions of pasta, his husband had definitely lost a couple of pounds. His face was more angular than normal. 

“Draco,” Harry asked, his earlier worries about his husband springing back to the forefront of his brain, “accuse me of nagging if you have to, but I need to ask… You’re really sure that everything is okay, love? You look like you’ve lost a bit of weight and sparking out on the settee isn’t like you.” He leant over and squeezed Draco’s knee. “And you _were_ complaining about your back earlier.”

Draco was silent for a moment, eyes drifting over their little girl. He twisted one of her honey-gold curls around his finger before he looked back over at Harry. 

“I don’t know. It’s like I said the other night, I've been feeling a little off the last few weeks. I ache all over and can’t seem to rouse myself whatever I do.” Draco puffed out an annoyed breath. “I think it’s a touch of the damned Muggle ‘flu. You know, I thought I was going to be sick yesterday when I took Isa to Mother’s for lunch. Her bloody House-Elf- You remember Elsie?- tried to feed me a prawn sandwich. Just the _scent_ of the thing was enough to make me bilious, Potter.”

Harry wasn’t particularly convinced or satisfied by Draco’s explanations, though. His partner was usually as aggravatingly healthy as a Blast-Ended- _bloody_ -Screwt and even when he did get poorly tended to shake off bugs and viruses in a matter of days. 

Lucius hadn’t ever allowed Draco to mix with non-magical people as a youngster and as a result his husband often got confused about the names of basic Muggle illnesses. His husband must have got himself muddled up. Aversion to prawn sandwiches and feeling nauseated didn’t sound like any kind of ‘flu that Harry had ever suffered through… 

In fact, if Harry had been _forced_ at wand-point to bet the contents of his vault, he would actually have lain all his galleons and groats at the door of Draco being pregnant…

Harry felt a massive, thrilling jolt of exhilaration course through his body as realisation hit home. His heart began to race as his mind did a dozen different calculations. Could it really be true? Could Draco actually be pregnant for a second time? 

Harry truly hoped so. Neither wizard wanted Isadora to be an only child like they had been. They both wanted Grimmauld Place to be full of mischief and laughter and all of a sudden it seemed to Harry that they were both much closer to their desire. 

There’d been a single occasion, only a few months before, when the two wizards had engaged in unprotected sex. It had been Blaise’s birthday party and Isadora had been staying with Narcissa for the night. 

The two wizards, excited by their single night of freedom and one-too-many Firewhiskies had been so utterly overcome with lust that they’d forgotten to use a condom. Harry had been buried balls-deep in his beloved before he’d even realised but Draco, bitingly close to his climax, had implored Harry to continue. “Please, Potter,” Draco had begged, “just this once… It won’t hurt.”

Sex without a condom hadn’t hurt but it seemed that they’d been a consequence that neither wizard had been expected. Draco was carrying a little souvenir of Blaise’s birthday party in his belly and their presence was already making itself known in Draco’s strange moods, his avid appetite and his sleepiness. 

Merlin, but it couldn’t really have been more obvious. Harry’s mind flew back to their conversation two nights before. There’d been that curious comment about weight gain. Draco had even confessed to feeling bloated and tearful, both of which had plagued Draco’s first trimester with Isadora. 

Harry grinned to himself. There’d been another telltale sign in bed only a few nights before. Harry had been lavishing kisses, bites and nibbles all over his husband’s luscious body when Draco had flinched. 

The blond wizard had moaned in pain-pleasure at the very moment Harry’s teeth had grazed his lover’s puffy pink nipple. The only other time that Draco’s nipple had been so tender and so sensitive had been when he’d been pregnant with their daughter eighteen months ago. 

Harry’s lips had dropped lower down his lover’s body as the following minutes had passed and thoughts of sexy swollen nipples had left his mind entirely. Now though? They were all Harry could think about. 

Draco was pregnant and Harry felt more jubilant than he had when Draco and he had taken their first test nearly two years before. 

Back then there had been a trepidation, a feeling of stepping off their broom into a life that was going to be radically different. This time all Harry could feel was elation. Isadora had been a wonderful addition to their lives and Harry knew that another baby would only add to their happiness. Harry had enough love in his heart for a dozen lifetimes. 

Beside him, Draco turned his head. He was looking thoughtfully in Harry’s direction and his eyes were kind. 

“You’re _thinking_ Potter,” Draco said, reaching over to tuck a tuft of Harry’s untameable hair behind his ear. “I can always tell darling. The cogs are all turning in that gorgeous noggin of yours.” 

Harry fixed a smile on his face. He was about to inform Draco about his fortuitous fertility and how they were about to become a family of four when Draco stood, Isadora sat on his hip. “And, while I’d _love_ to hear your thoughts on the agility of the Arrow’s new Beater or whatever is occupying your brain right now,” Draco continued, “I’m afraid it’s going to have to wait. I have to make breakfast for this little pixie before I shower. Teddy is down from school and he, Mother and Aunty Andi are coming over for afternoon tea this afternoon.”

Draco leant over and slotted Isa neatly into Harry’s waiting arms. 

Their little girl wasn’t best pleased to leave the safety of Draco’s embrace and she made a distressed mewling noise as her daddy Draco stood back up. 

Harry took the opportunity to have a sneaky look at his husband’s middle, wondering if they’d be any hint of a swell growing yet. Of course, it was very early days for Draco to be showing but Harry had noticed with various Weasley relations that second baby-bellies tended to pop out earlier. There was nothing to be seen though. The baggy Quidditch shirt covered Draco’s waist loosely, hiding any signs of a possible bump. 

“Don’t cry _ma petite cherie_ ,” Draco murmured. “We’ll all three be back together before you know it.” Draco dropped a loving kiss onto Harry’s shoulder before he padded out of the room in the direction of the kitchen, one hand still distractedly massaging his lower back. 

Harry shook his head, amazed at the shocking, brilliant direction that his day had turned. 

“You’re going to be a big sister,” he told Isadora solemnly, “which is a very important job. Quite the most important job in the whole world, really.” 

With a twist of his wand Harry Accio’ed Isadora’s box of blocks and her favourite magical creatures pop-up book that had been a present from George and Angelina. Isadora laughed and Harry sat her on the floor and plonked himself down beside her. 

Harry opened the picture book on a Hinkypunk and showed Isa the shimmering illustration before he spoke again. “You other daddy doesn't know he is pregnant though, which doesn’t surprise me a bit, babylove. We tried for you for _months_ … And every time it didn’t happen your other daddy wished upon his special star for you to grow. We wanted you so much. We loved you before we ever met you, Isadora, and the best thing about love? It grows and it stretches.” 

Harry cast a clever little spell and the blocks stood to attention in front of Isa’s eyes, building castles and tall towers. Isadora gasped as giggled as they reformed, clapping her hand in pleasure. 

“It wasn’t quite the plan to have another baby this soon,” Harry smiled, twisting his wand so that the blocks collapsed to the ground, “but that doesn’t matter a single sickle Isa. This baby will be every bit as special- and every bit as _loved_ \- as you are, sweetie.”

~*~*~


	3. Sunday 30th May 2005

**_Sunday 30th May 2005_**

When Harry awoke the following morning he found their bed was empty once again. 

He sniffed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, unsure as to what had woke him from his sleep. Harry listened hard but he couldn’t hear any murmurs or gurgles from Isadora’s room either. 

The thin light painting the ceiling told him that dawn had broken a little while before and a Tempus Spell confirmed his suspicions. It was 6.42 exactly when Harry heard the tiniest of groans emerging from their en-suite bathroom. 

It seemed that today Draco hadn’t risen early to spend time pruning and trimming in the garden. Instead, his husband was sat in a crumpled pile on the floor of their en-suite bathroom, shaky, trembling and wrapped in Harry’s burgundy dressing gown. 

Draco had drawn up his skinny knees up close to his torso and he was resting his tousled, sweaty blond head on top of them. He was taking slow, wobbly breaths and his face was as pale as parchment. 

“Draco love,” Harry said, sitting down on the floor beside him. He rested a gentle hand on Draco’s shoulder and found the muscles tense under his touch. “What’s wrong?” 

“I feel as sick as a crup,” Draco moaned, lifting his head to look at Harry. “I mean… I haven’t actually been sick yet… I just feel so bloody _rough_ , love. The bedroom was spinning as I lay there.” His husband’s eyes were red-rimmed and watery and Harry knew immediately what the matter was with him. This was a repeat of the morning sickness that had been the curse of Draco’s first trimester the first time around. 

Draco had often grumbled that _morning_ sickness had been quite the fib, for nausea had troubled him at every hour of the day, often hanging around a while. 

Harry carded a finger through Draco’s hair, half-wondering if this was the time to discuss the probable cause of his beloved’s poorly tum. 

“I don’t feel sick at all,” Harry began, hoping Draco might start to wonder why he was the only one afflicted by this sudden sickness. “Fit as a ferret really, despite it being much too early to be out of bed.”

Draco gave him a thin smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“It was that bloody Elven Cheesecake that Mother brought from the Manor,” he replied, rocking slowly from side to side and taking shallow breaths. “I knew it tasted odd when I was eating it and now I _know_ it was sour.” He made an annoyed face but Harry thought Draco looked rather more pitiable than he did intimidating. “Those bloody Elves of hers need to be educated on the setting of stasis spells… If I didn’t feel as rotten as I do then perhaps I’d send Mother a Howler,” he managed, trying to sound grim but failing miserably. “I’m only glad Isa didn’t eat any.”

Harry knew that it wasn’t cake of any kind ailing Draco but he decided that now wasn’t the time to say anything. It was definitely better not to begin their journey towards life as a family of four whilst his husband felt this dreadful. Harry decided to wait. 

“I expect you’re correct,” Harry replied. “I was too full up from lunch to have any. There was a bit left so I’ll chuck it out… Do you want me to get you a Fizzy Pumpkin juice love? They always used to make you feel better-”

Draco gave Harry a curious look and Harry shut his mouth mid-sentence. Fizzy Pumpkin juice _had_ always made Draco feel better but that’d been eighteen months previously when Draco had suffered from morning sickness and that was the only liquid that he could keep in his stomach. “Well. It might settle your tummy,” Harry concluded in a firm voice. 

“Alright then,” Draco agreed, his voice closing his eyes against a second wave of sickness. “Please. I’m sorry Harry. You know I loathe looking this weak and pathetic,” he continued in a wavering voice. “Especially as this is your Sunday and you get little enough time off with us both as it is-”

“Don’t talk such nonsense,” Harry lovingly chided, leaning over to give his love a quick peck on his head. “You don’t look weak _or_ pathetic. I’m your husband. My job is to love and look after you, remember? Sit tight. I’ll get you that fizzy juice and then I’ll wake up Isa. She won’t settle for a nap this afternoon otherwise and I don’t want her all grouchy and Malfoyish when our mates are around later.”

Draco gave a nod and a groan and Harry stood up. He raced down the stairs to the kitchens and grabbed a Fizzy Pumpkin juice from the pantry, cooling it with a light chilling spell as he rushed it back up to Draco. He bounded back through into their en-suite and popped it into Draco’s waiting hand. 

“Take your time love,” Harry assured his poorly husband. “There’s no rush. I’ll make you some plain toast. A little something to fill your tummy will do you the world of good with the… _Well_. It’ll do you the world of good with this ‘flu that you can’t shake.”

Draco liked to complain that Isadora was all her lazy Potter father when it came to waking and Harry secretly agreed. As he walked into his daughter’s room her little face was still pressed into her mattress and her eyelashes fluttered delicately against her cheeks. Isadora was likely still dreaming and Harry hoped that every night of her life would be just as peaceful as this one had been. 

Harry wanted nothing more than for Isadora to have a tranquil, happy life, devoid of the unhappiness and pressures that had haunted both Draco’s and his own childhood. They’d both been stripped of their innocence by adults that should have known better and who should have cared more. Harry knew that he would lay down his life before he let anyone hurt or ruin Isadora like that. 

“Isa-baby,” Harry murmured, rolling up the blinds with a swirl of his wand, “It’s time to get up sweetpea. Wakey wakey, little chick.”

Harry lifted her out of her cot and Isa stirred at his touch, her tiny eyes flicking wide open. She stared at Harry with wide, cheerful eyes and she babbled a delightful jumble of sounds, as pleased as ever to face her new day. Isadora fit perfectly in his arms and Harry wrapped his arms around her, taking in a lungful of her clean baby scent. 

“I’ll let you into a secret,” Harry murmured as he carried her through to their bedroom, “the new baby is making your other daddy feel a bit under the weather this morning, but I promise that it isn’t them being naughty. It’s actually a good sign to show that they are growing well. It might not feel like such a good thing to daddy, but you and I both know that it is.”

Their little girl might have favoured both her parents equally in her appearance but Harry had to admit that she was unquestionably more like him in personality. Their little daughter relished nothing more than pleasing the people that she loved. Isa enjoyed dancing, music and was a lively, bubbly little soul who loved flitting between different activities and family members. 

Maybe the baby currently making his husband feel so down in the dumps, would perhaps be more like Draco? Harry felt his imagination start to run away with him as he envisioned their new baby, imagined them thoughtful and incisive in a way that wasn’t in his own DNA. 

Maybe their new little one would have Draco’s secret, generous heart or his questioning, placid nature. Harry very much hoped so. They were some of Draco’s attributes that he most admired and ones that he had fallen hardest for. 

Harry cared rather less about the gender of their new baby, much as he hadn’t minded when they were having with Isadora. 

Of course, Harry had heard all the comments in the Auror locker-rooms. He’d heard Ron and the others telling him how much easier boys were, and how you needed a boy to carry on your family name. None of that Pureblood nonsense had ever mattered to Harry or to Draco though. 

They both knew that the gender a child was born with was only the first chapter in their story. It mattered even less to them what their children chose to do with their lives. He didn’t care if Isadora decided to dance Muggle ballet or whether she followed him into the DMLE. As long as she lived her happiness then that was all that mattered to Harry.

“Daydreaming again, Potter?” Draco asked, ambling slowly out of the bathroom. 

The Fizzy Pumpkin juice looked to have done Draco the world of good. He still looked drawn and pale, but his shaky demeanour seemed to have faded somewhat. Maybe the morning sickness wouldn’t affect his husband quite as badly this time around, though it was still early days for that kind of prediction. 

“You’ve got that sentimental, moony face on that always means some sort of trouble for me. I see you’ve got our little niffler up out of her bed,” Draco smiled, pausing to tickle her under the chin, “and I must say, she does look extra especially beautiful today… Can you carry her downstairs for me though, love? I don’t want to give her whatever-this-is.”

“I’m allowed to have a sentimental, moony face,” Harry smirked, looking back over his shoulder. He walked downstairs with Isa a lovely, solid presence safely held in his arms. Draco followed behind, the colour beginning to return to his cheeks. “I’ve got the best family in wizarding England, love. I can’t help it if I feel a _little_ chuffed sometimes.”

Within minutes their breakfast was on its merry way. Isadora favoured a banana and cloudberry porridge that Harry thought looked revolting while Draco skinned a clementine. He popped the segments into his mouth, one piece at a time, before exclaiming that the fruit had looked too delicious to resist. 

Harry had to bite back a laugh at that comment for Draco had enjoyed an irresistible yen for citrus fruits when he was pregnant before. Harry remembered one or two nights where he’d been sent to the local Muggle supermarket at nearly midnight in order to sate Draco’s powerful cravings. 

Harry filled the kettle and set it to boil with a tap of his wand and made marmalade on toast for himself. He earmarked two slices for Draco which he buttered, knowing they would make his beloved feel better. 

The three of them talked and ate, and Draco fed Isadora with her broomstick patterned spoon. It was as lovely and as domestic as anything that Harry could have dreamt of. Back when he’d been a child, when he’d been locked in his cupboard and looked upon with barely concealed revulsion, Harry hadn’t really understood what family meant. 

Harry hadn’t understood that family meant you were accepted and that you were acknowledged. Harry looked across at his husband and baby and realised that in less than nine months there’d be another baby sat beside them at their table. The thought made Harry feel a little emotional. It would be messy and it’d certainly be chaotic and noisy but none of that really mattered. 

It would be the family that the short, skinny little boy in the cupboard had craved with every part of his being. 

~*~*~

Sunday afternoon rolled around far quicker than Harry would have liked. 

He could never understand how his days at work were so long yet the weekends spun by in the blink of an eye. He’d have put it down to magic, or some sort of charm but sadly his time only seemed to fly when he was beside his family. 

Hermione, wise witch that she was, had told Harry that this was life as a parent. “Children are like living Time Turners,” she had joked once, smiling but her voice still sincere. “They grow and change with every day that passes and you’re left looking on with wonder, trying to figure out where the time went.”

Toast and a cup of milky tea at breakfast had settled Draco’s stomach but Harry had sent him back off up to bed anyway. 

“You need to rest love,” Harry had said as the three of them had sat at the table, the residue of their breakfast around them. “Go and sleep whatever this is off, and I’ll get the place prepped for this afternoon? That is, if you still want to have company later? I can send a couple of owls and cancel if you like.” Draco had lent back in his chair, and Harry had turned his body to face him. Harry lay a light hand on his husband’s thigh, knowing how oversensitive Draco’s skin felt whenever he was poorly like this.

“I’ll take the nap,” Draco had replied, “but please don’t cancel, Potter. A couple of hours and I’m sure that I’ll be as right as rain. You sure you’re going to be okay with Isa too?” he asked, standing up with a yawn. 

Harry stood too and he had pulled his beloved into a hug. 

He let his hands drift over to Draco’s belly, rubbing small circles over the soft rounded swell beneath his belly button under the pretence of taking away his husband’s tummy ache. There wasn’t much there yet, certainly nothing that couldn’t be ascribed to an extra portion of pudding but Harry had felt his whole body bubble with excitement. 

This was a tiny new life growing and, though it was likely his imagination, Harry had felt a frisson of magic beneath his fingers. Isadora had looked on, giggling and babbling. She always got excited at the sight of her two daddies kissing.

Draco’s prediction had been right, of course. He’d emerged from their bedroom looking like a brand new wizard not ten minutes before Pansy and Theo had flooed into their fireplace. 

Maeve, Pansy’s little daughter was held tightly in Theo’s arms. Their daughter was only two months older than Isadora and Harry had fond memories of Pansy and Draco lain together in the settee, fiercely competitive over their bumps, the severity of the symptoms and how dotingly marvellous their husbands were. 

It had all been a bit of a race between Pansy and Draco when they’d been trying to get pregnant, each wanting to beat the other like the tricky Slytherins they both were. 

As he watched his husband embrace his best-friend Harry wondered idly how it’d feel for Draco, being pregnant for a second time. Would he be less anxious? Less concerned with reading every baby book he could lay his fingers on and having everything just _so?_

Harry watched on as his husband knotted his fingers though Pansy’s and led her through into their garden. Harry nodded hello to Theo and they followed their partners through the French doors into the afternoon sunshine, Isadora gurgling her own greetings to Maeve from where she sat upon Theo’s hip. 

“Darling,” Pansy said, looking at Draco and adjusting her sunglasses as she arranged herself on a sun-lounger, “this garden of yours is looking superb. You have the greenest fingers of anyone I’ve ever met. It’s only a pity you didn’t let me copy your Herbology work at Hogwarts. I might have got a better OWL grade, sweetie.”

Draco grinned as he lazed on the lounger beside Pansy. 

“It’s a labour of love,” Draco replied, looking around at the manicured plants and orderly shrubs and plants. Harry knew that Draco had charmed all the dangerous fauna with notice-me-not spells so that their Muggle neighbours wouldn’t see them but to the four wix the plants were visible and they shone with health and vigour. “Just a little way of keeping my hand in until I’m ready to go back to work.”

Harry pricked up his ears from his crouched position beside the paddling pool. Draco hadn’t mentioned his job as a Magi-Botanist for a few months, not since he’d gotten aggravated by a colleague’s article in the _Journal of Modern Herbology_ and thrown his copy of the periodical across the floor. 

It wasn’t like they needed the money from Draco’s university role. Despite all of the post-War property seizures and reparations the Malfoy family were still very wealthy. It was more a point of pride for Draco that he’d always had a job, rather than live his life as a dissolute aristocrat like his father had before him. 

“Are you planning on going back then?” Pansy asked, leaning over to take a glass of raspberry cordial from the garden table, “because you seemed very convinced otherwise when we were at the Green Toadstool baby group on Thursday. Said that you didn’t want to miss a day with Isa.” Pansy peered over the paddling pool where both babies were splashing cheerfully in half an inch of water. “But you could always hire an Elf-Nanny, or send her to a wizarding nursery-”

Draco pulled a face, furrowing his brow at Pansy’s suggestions and Harry felt a knot of tension release that he hadn’t even known he was carrying. 

Draco had been rather ambitious and career-minded when the two of them had first begun to date and the wizard had been well on track to get a tenured position at the Morgante Magical College at Cambridge. Isadora had put paid to that plan, at least for a couple of years and the baby that Draco was carrying would only keep Draco’s name and research out of the magic journals for even longer. 

“It’s difficult,” Draco replied, taking a swallow of his own juice. “I mean, I miss College life but I don’t miss a _minute_ of the pressure of it.” Harry looked up, his eyes finding Draco’s own for a brief moment. 

Harry thought Draco looked very handsome laying there. He could see the slight swell of his husband’s tummy beneath his shirt and see Draco’s hand resting on it lightly. Perhaps his beloved’s unconscious mind was already aware of the little life growing there. 

“Harry and I have made a good life for ourselves here,” Draco continued, before breaking into a rueful smile, “if only I could get rid of this damned Muggle ‘flu! I was as sick as a dying bloody threstral this morning Pans. It seems to have tucked itself away for now, thankfully-”

Harry had been listening in. As he heard Draco’s words he swiped Isadora out of the water and speedily dried her over with a swipe of his wand. 

The sudden movement caught Draco’s eye and his words faltered, the whole of his attention moving over to his baby. Isadora giggled with pleasure at the sudden warmth of her daddy Harry’s familiar magic over her skin and Draco grinned, holding out his arms for a cuddle. 

Harry smiled to himself, pleased with his quick action. Pansy was a tricky witch and closer than any sister to his husband. If Harry, well known amongst their friends for his oblivious nature had noticed Draco was expecting, then he didn’t doubt that Pans had known for much longer. The last thing that Harry wanted was Parkinson giving Draco his exciting news and stealing his thunder. 

Theo took Harry’s attention away from Draco then, repeating some well-known gossip about the Appleby Arrow’s new Swedish Beater and the latest Ministry reforms. 

Nott was a wily Cursebreaker that had aided the DMLE on several occasions. A friendship had sprung up between Harry and he, unexpected but rewarding. The Cursebreaker had a cynical sharp sense of humour about their joint employers that Harry couldn’t help but appreciate. Out of the corner of his eye Harry could see Pansy and Draco transfiguring serviettes into little boats and setting them to float across the surface of the paddling pool. 

Isa and Maeve were delighted with the game and Harry watched the babies bat them away, time and time again with not a hint of boredom. He wondered if he ought to start on the barbecue but Ron and Hermione were still due to arrive and they hadn’t sent their owl to cancel. He knew he could stasis their hamburgers but that wasn’t quite the same as freshly cooked. 

Beside him, Theo took a long swallow of his Elderflower wine, his brown eyes following the line of Harry’s gaze. 

“They change your whole life,” Nott commented softly, his words for Harry’s ears only. “We’d like another, a brother or a sister for Maeve. I suppose it wouldn’t really matter… We both come from big families, Pansy and I, and the comments have already started like you wouldn’t believe. ‘You don’t want to leave it too long,’ was my mum’s opinion just last week.” Theo paused, leaning forward in his deckchair. “What about you, Potter? You and Draco thinking about making it a party of four?”

This was all news to Harry. No one had made any snide comments to him or to Draco as far as he knew. Male pregnancies were slightly more complicated in comparison to female ones, since they were supported by magic, rather than a conventional menstrual cycle, so perhaps most people were expecting Draco and he to leave their family exactly as it was. 

Harry decided to stick as close to the truth as he could without giving the game away. Theo was a friend but he was still Slytherin and if Harry said a word about the new baby then he had no doubt that Pansy would be told within the hour. 

“Merlin. Haven’t talked about it really,” he replied, batting an invisible bug from his leg. “There’s not much in the way of parents, _left_ to give us pressure except Narcissa,” he said. “That’s never been her way though. She loves Isa with everything she’s got though and I think if it another baby arrived then I know they’d be very welcome-”

Harry might have said more but that was the moment that Ron and Hermione arrived, with the sound of their floo chiming through into the garden. 

Ron hadn’t ever been one to stand on ceremony and within seconds his best-friend had marched through, and was throwing his arms around Harry and shaking Theo’s hand. 

“Sorry I’m late, Harry,” he said while Rose, their three year old hid behind his jeans. He rolled his eyes. “Daughters. Seems like the older they get the more bloody time it takes to get them out of the door… I’m bloody starving, matey. Thought that you’d have got that barbecue fired up by now.” 

Harry let himself be carried away on a tide of convivial conversation. Rose quickly warmed up and emerged from behind her daddy’s legs, soon becoming just talkative and as enthusiastic as her mum. 

Theo’s department had been involved with the raid on Friday morning and the discussion soon moved over to some of the more obscure curses that the potions smuggler had used. 

“There was a lung liquefier,” Ron said, scoffing in disgust at the trap that the criminal had set and spilling a couple of drops of his beer in the process. “Not to mention a right nasty one that was set to melt all the organs in your body if you had tripped over it… Gods, but the felon was a bit of a thickhead! The curses wouldn’t have been easier to spot if the git had charmed a sodding parchment map to the door.”

Hermione looked up from her seat where she had been coating Rose with a liberal layer of sunblock potion. 

“Don’t be so bloody self-assured.” She shook her head at Ron’s words and pursed her lips. “He’s always the same when he gets an audience,” Hermione continued, looking at Theo. “I read Harry’s report about the raid yesterday and it was a true team effort, Nott. Despite what _Ronald_ here might say, those Cursebreakers that went in first had to deal with some very slippery curses. I’m only glad that nobody was injured-”

Ron acknowledged her point with a grin before he leant over and gave his wife a kiss. “I’m sorry,” he replied. “I know that you worry-”

“Mummy is worried because she has a _baby_ in her tummy,” Rose cut in loudly, stunning the adults all sat around the paddling pool into silence. 

Even Pansy and Draco turned their heads to look in the small girl’s direction. Rose stood there indignantly, her hands on her hips. Harry couldn’t quite believe how much she looked like Hermione in the moment, defiant, confident and very pretty. “And you both said it was a _secret_ , but you and daddy tell Uncle Harry _everything_ and-”

Ron flushed red to the very roots of his hair.

“We weren't going to say anything _yet_ ,” Ron muttered, squeezing an arm around Hermione’s shoulder, “because it’s still really early. It seems like Rosie here has missed the entire _concept_ of a secret.”

Hermione had to smile at that, although she looked equally as embarrassed as her husband. “And I wonder where she got that particular trait from,” she said, folding her daughter into her arms. 

The next few minutes were a flurry of excitement, congratulations and joy. Harry hurriedly placed his paper plate on the floor and pulled his best-friend into a massive hug, amazed and pleased at the turn of events. It seemed that Rosie had been dying to tell everybody that she was going to be a big sister and her grin was entirely infectious. 

“Well, this definitely isn’t enough of a celebration,” Draco said, embracing Hermione and giving her a kiss. “We should have cake and Treacle Tart and-”

“Circe, _no!_ ” Pansy laughed, “haven’t you forgotten how poorly sweet stuff made us both? Especially later on. Merlin, but I could hardly eat cake by the end, not the way it squashed my digestive system!”

“Luckily I’m not quite at that point yet,” Hermione said, sipping her drink. She gave her still-flat tummy a little pat. “I’ve only known a few days. A couple of bouts of morning sickness and that’s about it. I have to admit that it’s all very unexpected. Two weeks ago I was still drinking wine at that Minister’s dinner that we both attended, Harry. Do you remember?”

“Well, it’ll be all fruit juices and Ginger Ale from now on,” Draco said readily. “And Fizzy Pumpkin juice! I warn you, that’ll be all you’ll be able to stomach once the morning sickness really gets its claws into you.”

“And lemons,” Theo added with a snort of laughter. “I couldn’t buy enough lemons for Pansy. Everyday I had to buy more… Pans ate them. Sucked them. Even bloody _sniffed_ them! I was honestly worried that Maeve might have a slight yellow tinge the amount that she put away.” 

Hermione turned a little green at those suggestions. “With Rosie it was ice lollies,” she smiled, carding her fingertips through Rosie’s hair. “And ice chips. I spent half my time freezing glasses of water and breaking little bits off. I thought some of my Ministry colleagues thought I’d gone half-batty. I’m not looking forward to that part-”

“Or the hot flushes,” Harry chimed in, grinning in delight at his best-friend’s unanticipated news, “Draco here moaned about my warming spells for weeks. If he wasn’t colder than an Azkaban dungeon then he was hotter than the midday sun-”

“I think I’m getting picked on a little unfairly here,” Draco replied. He gathered Isadora into his lap and helped her with her bottle. With a tap of his wand it turned the right temperature and he guided the little rubber teat into his daughter’s mouth. 

“At least I wasn’t like Pans here,” he said, giving his best-friend a friendly poke with his spare hand. “She was the oddest creature of all when she was expecting. I caught her chewing raw dirigible plums! Straight from the bush! I’m surprised that your digestive system remained unscathed, Parkinson! Remember that I wanted to take you to St. Mungos?”

Everybody laughed at that, even Maeve and Isa, and the conversation quickly turned to some of the more ridiculous things that each wix had craved while they were pregnant. 

Draco admitted how he’d taken to pulling the leaves from his Shrivelfig plant and chewing them when no one was looking. Ron confessed to Apparating to different brother’s homes in the middle of the night and pinching as many Cauldron Cakes as he could carry in his pockets to satisfy Hermione’s whims. 

“It was ‘Mione’s idea,” Ron said, chortling at the memory. “And she’s up to her old tricks. That’s the real reason we were so bloody late, Harry! We couldn’t floo ‘till Hermione here had drunk one of those foul mint teas that she loves so bloody much. Said the baby demanded it!”

The rest of their afternoon was spent celebrating Hermione’s exciting news with plenty of non-alcoholic drinks, and all the ginger biscuits, lemons and ice-lollies that Harry could carry back from the Muggle corner shop on the corner of their street. Shrivilfig leaves and dirigible plums weren't a part of their feast. 

This wasn’t anything like the Potter-Malfoy barbecues of even two years before. In previous years, abundant measures of Firewhiskey had usually replaced the hot-dogs and burgers after a couple of hours had passed, and that was before everything got messy over a game of Gobstones. 

Nowadays their afternoon was much more sedate and calm. There were babies to bath, and bedtime routines to follow, and unfortunately a dozen things that needed sorted before another week of work started the following morning. 

By the time that six o’clock arrived around Maeve and Isa had both gotten grizzly with tiredness and their daughter’s normally sweet face was red, wrinkled and annoyed. Rose was in tears with a tummy ache, having eaten far too many of Cauldron Cakes that Harry had found in their cupboard and gifted to Hermione. 

“We’d better go,” Ron said, shrugging on this coat and yawning widely. He looked over at Harry with a grin. “We’ve got that meeting with Robards first thing tomorrow and I expect you’ll have to do most of the talking, matey. I haven’t even _thought_ about that Illegal Potions case since we flooed out on Friday. Merlin. Bloody midnight! I sincerely hope that we don’t have any midnight finishes next week! I’m getting much too old for the late nights.” 

Harry gave his best-mate a hug. “Think you should have thought about the late nights before you made baby number two,” he joked. If Harry were being even the slightest bit truthful, the smuggling case had been the last thing on his own mind too. Sitting in that overheated basement with Ron, collecting and cataloguing evidence had been only two days before but it felt like a lifetime ago. 

As their closest friends manoeuvred their tired, whiny babies into their fireplace and disappeared into the sparkling green flames Harry let his arm drift around Draco’s hips. 

His husband held Isa in his arms and Harry decided that Draco looked rather pink around the ears. Despite napping for much of the day, Harry could see that his husband was getting tired once again. He pressed a single sweet kiss onto his lips, enjoying their daughter’s delighted wriggles and the thought of their new baby steadily, secretly growing inside of his husband. 

Perhaps, Harry decided, it was time to inform his oblivious husband of his similarly pregnant state. It seemed like the only fair thing to do. It was hard to credit that Draco hadn’t already come to the same conclusion, considering all the discussions of cravings, sudden nausea and sleepiness that had occurred during the course of their afternoon. 

“Draco love,” Harry began, “I’ve been thinking. Do you reckon-”

“You’re going to have to tell me in a minute,” Draco said, placing Isadora in Harry’s hands. “I have the most sudden, intense urge to wee, Harry… Whatever it is will have to wait. I’ll start Isa’s bath while I’m up there.”

Harry watched his husband dart off up the stairs and he kissed his daughter’s curly hair. “Maybe tomorrow,” he said with a resigned sigh. “I’ll try to tell your daddy then.”

~*~*~


	4. Wednesday 2nd June 2005

**_Wednesday 2nd June 2005_ **

It wasn’t to be, though. The next three days were a nightmare of erumpent-sized proportions that made Harry ending his day at only midnight look like an indolent early finish. 

Everything had begun to race downhill for the Auror partners at their nine o’clock meeting with Robards. The Welshman had spelled reports into Ron and his laps with barely concealed excitement. “Merlin’s sodding beard!” he’d shouted noisily, despite the tiny meeting room, “we’ve only gone and done it, lads! Only got a bloody lead on a member of the _Confrerie de la Magie Verte_.” 

Ron and he had read the report in a matter of minutes. It had been written by John Alwyn-Jones, the DMLE’s Resident Potioneer and it concerned some of the rarer ingredients that Harry and Ron had catalogued the Friday before. 

One sentence jumped out to Harry and he underlined it in yellow ink, scraping his non-smudging quill over the parchment. 

“ _The Venomous Tentacular leaves that Deputy Lead Aurors Potter and Weasley confiscated during the Friday raid_ ,” Harry read aloud to his partner, “ _were found to have been treated with a preservative potion solution often utilised by the Confrerie de la Magie Verte_.”

This was exciting news indeed. The DMLE had been searching for a way to infiltrate the closed and secretive ranks of this international criminal gang for over a year and this was the first time that they’d had even a sniff of success. This tiny clue had the potential to break the gang wide open. 

Harry felt his heart sink into his boots and he resisted the urge to swear both loudly and repeatedly. There’d be no Isadora and no Draco until Ron and he had investigated every lead that they could tease out from the evidence. No telling Draco his new baby news either. Harry felt glum, knowing how busy the next few days would be. Still, this was what Harry had signed up for when he had accepted the Deputy Lead role and he knew that there wasn’t a choice in the matter. 

The next two days were an absolute blur. Harry and Ron skipped meals, conducted several different Azkaban interviews and deposited more statements into the DMLE Pensieve than they’d believed humanly possible. Harry didn’t even attempt to go home to Grimmauld Place and the only time he dozed was several snatched seconds in the stationary storeroom. 

The one time that Harry saw his daughter was through the effervescent green flames of the floo for a few minutes on Tuesday morning. Isadora waved with her tiny chubby fist and Harry felt an almost physical ache of loneliness. 

Ron and he got their big break very late on Tuesday night. Their Azkaban resident, exhausted by the Auror team’s perpetual visits, and their hard, unrelenting questions, slipped up during one of her interviews and admitted that she’d been recruited into the _Confrerie de la Magie Verte_ whilst still a sixth form student at Beauxbatons. 

This was extremely interesting information to the DMLE. They’d long suspected the Potions Professor at the French magical school was deeply involved in the intercontinental smuggling- his name had turned up over and over again in the case notes- but until that moment they’d never had any cause to raid his offices. 

Working alongside their French counterparts, Harry and Ron swooped on the Professor’s offices not long before dawn on the Wednesday morning. It was the very definition of a successful raid. 

With a swift Expelliarmus Harry had the Professor’s wand off him in a matter of moments and Ron magicked a pair of unbreakable handcuffs onto him before he had any chance to escape. 

Diaries, manifests and letters tied the criminal to the _Confrerie de la Magie Verte_ without the smallest shadow of a doubt. No hexes, curses or jinks were discharged during the course of the raid and Robards proclaimed himself extremely satisfied. 

“Boffin like that won’t enjoy a prison cell,” Robards had boomed, clapping Harry on his back. “Seen it a thousand times before. He’ll make a deal with the Wizengamot and turn snitch. That whole gang will fold faster than a drunkard playing sodding poker. Bet your ruddy broomstick on it! Get your arses back home, lads! Paperwork can wait but your bloody marriages won’t.” 

Harry hadn’t needed to be told twice. He’d sent a frantic Patronus to Draco before saying a swift goodbye to Ron and Apparating home. 

It was only mid-morning when Harry arrived back at Grimmauld Place. His living room was silent and as Harry pulled off his coat and boots he took in a lungful of the sweet, hyacinth-scented air that was drifting in from an open window. He let it out contemplatively. This was what home smelt like and right then there wasn’t anywhere else in the world where Harry would rather have been. 

Harry switched on the kettle with an amused snort of laughter. 

The absence of a delirious, overjoyed Howler during the last three days had led the Auror to conclude that Draco still hadn’t figured out the reason for his aching lower back, his raw emotions and the fact that he’d suddenly turned into Sleeping Beauty. 

Harry couldn’t wait until his husband finally worked it out so he could shower him with a million kisses and tease him about his unSlytherinlike obliviousness. 

Harry put his Auror kit away quietly, concluding quickly that Isadora must be napping. He could see her empty pram parked in the hallway and the wireless was silent too. _Enchanting Music For Magic Babies_ , the radio show that Draco enjoyed sharing with Isa would usually be playing around this time of the day. 

It didn’t matter. Harry knew he’d have all afternoon to get reacquainted with his daughter. There wasn’t any sign of Draco reading or gardening either, so Harry supposed his beloved had taken the opportunity to have a kip alongside their daughter. 

Harry watched the boiling kettle for about three seconds before he switched it off, deciding that he couldn’t wait even another moment before he saw Isadora. All he wanted was a peek. With a twist of his wand Harry wrapped himself up in a silencing spell before bounding up the stairs before opening her door just an inch. 

Isa was sound asleep in her cot, the only sound in the room her tiny breaths and the nearly imperceivable hum of the guardian magic spells which protected her. 

“Love you with all of my heart,” Harry whispered. He longed to seize her in his arms but he resisted the temptation. Waking Isadora from her daytime nap invoked Draco’s ire like nothing else. “Missed you so much the last few days,” he whispered, blowing her a kiss. 

Closing the door, Harry decided to skip his tea. He’d missed Draco too and the thought of seeing his husband was simply too enticing. He wouldn’t wake him. That wouldn’t be fair. He’d just slide into bed beside him… 

“Merlin,” Harry growled as he entered the bedroom. Draco wasn’t asleep. 

Instead, Draco was very much awake and was on their bed, waiting for him. 

The wizard was posing on their bed cover, clothed in nothing but a pair of very lacy, very red knickers and one of Harry’s formal shirts. 

Draco looked absolutely fantastic, all long, lithe legs and dark, aroused eyes and Harry felt his body begin to respond to the sight, as inevitable as a charm. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Harry murmured, his voice a warm rumble as he stepped over the carpet towards the bed. “And you look fantastic. What’s all this in aid of?”

Draco slipped off the bed and sashayed over to stand in front of Harry, his hips moving silkily and suggestively. 

“Three days is much too long, Potter,” Draco purred, brushing the daintiest, chastest of kisses onto Harry’s lips, “and I’ve been waiting for you to come home to me, love.” Draco rolled his hips, wantonly rubbing his tented red silk knickers against Harry’s hips. “Can’t stop thinking about you. My body is crying out for you.”

Harry leant in and the two began kissing. Draco’s lips opened for Harry and he began to explore his beloved’s hot, wet mouth. His husband’s tongue darted against his, coquettish and sexy and Harry felt his skin ripple into goosebumps at the contact. 

This warm, fluid sensuality was so familiar too. Sex had always been an important way for the pair of them to express their devotion to each other, but their lovemaking had developed an extra frisson of excitement when Draco had been pregnant with Isadora. All that extra blood rushing around Draco’s body and all those extra hormones had left Draco nearly insatiable. Harry had manfully risen to the challenge. 

Harry had found the sight of Draco’s changing body very attractive and felt a primal, raw thrill at the idea that it was his baby growing inside his belly. He slid his hands beneath the hem of the shirt and let them rest on the rounded curve of Draco’s waist. 

There was already a new softness there and Harry felt his cock swell in response to the feeling of his husband’s skin under his fingers. Harry loved how brimful of life Draco’s pregnant body was and how much he glowed, fertile and beautiful. 

“Your body is exquisite,” Harry whispered as he broke off their kiss. He slipped his hands out of the shirt and took half a step backwards. “And I want you so much.”

Harry undid the buttons on Draco’s shirt, tugged it off his shoulders and flung it into the floor. Draco looked magnificent. His small tummy sat on top of his knickers and the head of his prominent erection poked out of the top of the lacy material. “Mmmm,” Harry said, his eyes raking over Draco’s figure, his mouth dry with arousal. “Do you think that Isa will nap much longer?” 

“Oh, I believe so,” Draco replied, his voice smoky as Amortentia. His long, elegant fingers crept around from where they’d been resting on Harry’s bottom and he stroked over the large bulge that was barely restrained by his woollen work trousers. “I put her down for her nap the moment I got your patronus, Harry… Circe, please can we fuck, lovely? I can’t seem to think about anything else. I’m aching for you.”

“Gods, yes,” Harry said, his fingers suddenly clumsy as he tried to undo the fiddly buttons of his shirt. In his frustration he vanished it in a burst of wandless magic “Want you so much. It feels like ages. I’ll make you feel brilliant, promise. Give you a lovely orgasm.” 

Draco was all business, unknotting the clasps on Harry’s trousers and pushing them to the floor. It took mere moments before the two wizards were in the same state of undress and Harry gently crowded his husband back towards the bed, kissing and touching him as they moved. 

Harry was about to throw Draco down on top of their quilt and ravish him senseless like he always did when, all of a sudden, he realised that simply wasn’t an option. Male pregnancies were at their most vulnerable in these first short weeks and Harry wasn’t about to take any risks with either his husband or his new baby. He broke off their kisses, pulling off his boxers and kicked them across the floor.“Lay down, darling,” Harry said, excusing himself. “I’ll get you prepared.”

“ _Mmm_ , you’re not being the ruffian that I’ve come to expect,” Draco murmured, laying back and posing with a lascivious smile on his face, “I’ve come to enjoy your unrefined lovemaking.” 

“Just admiring the view,” Harry murmured, rummaging in the bedside cabinet for lube. His fingers closed around a condom but there wasn’t much point any longer. He dropped it back into the drawer. “Just say the charm today,” Harry said. “It’s been so long, love. I want to feel you next to me when I come.”

Draco didn’t reply, though Harry noticed that his eyes widened slightly in surprise. The contraceptive charm wasn’t anywhere near as reliable. “Fuck, but you’re sexy,” Draco murmured before he said the enchantment and Harry crawled onto the bed. 

Harry hooked his thumbs into the silky material and hitched the knickers down over Draco’s hips in a single fluid move. 

“Gods. Have you any idea how bloody much I love you?” Harry muttered, feeling an intense throb of desire roll down his spine. Pregnancy had made his lover’s hair glossy and his skin soft. Draco’s nipples were pebbled, pert, and already visibly darker than they’d been just a few weeks before. Harry lay Draco gently down onto his back, wanting only to worship and pleasure. “You’ve never looked better darling. You must know that I’m besotted.”

Harry kissed a line down Draco’s chest, swirling his tongue around his lover’s swollen nipple and over the thin scars that patterned his chest. Moving downwards Harry brushed his lips over Draco’s navel and down to the small swell of his husband’s bump. 

“There’s not a part of you that I don’t adore,” Harry said reverently. “These last three days… When I’m not with you and Isa I’m not whole. Feel like a part of my heart is missing.”

He looked up at Draco. His husband’s cheeks were flushed and he looked down at Harry affectionately. “Such beautiful words,” Draco said, running his fingertips through Harry’s messy hair. “We missed you too… Will you kiss me? I need to feel you close.” His voice was open and vulnerable and full of love. “I’ve fantasied about this moment since you flooed away from me.” 

Harry did, laying beside Draco so as not to put any pressure on his beloved’s tummy. His hand found Draco’s cock and he rolled the foreskin over its head, revelling in the blatant heat and arousal of his husband’s length. Just like he’d been with Isadora, Draco’s first-trimester body was hypersensitive. Harry rolled his thumb delicately over the head, spreading slick precome all over his lover’s shaft. Their lovemaking still felt as charged and as potent as their very first time. 

Beside him his lover panted, already close getting to his orgasm. The pupils of Draco’s eyes were blown large and Harry realised he needed to be prudent or their fun would be over before it had even begun. He let go of Draco’s cock, shifting his hand over to clutch his lover’s hip. There wasn’t any need for them to hurry. 

Draco wasn’t keen on this turn of events though and he whimpered. “Harry, please… I need this. Need _you_ ,” Draco hissed, the naked want raw in his voice. “Touch me. Stretch me open, darling. I’m not made of bloody _glass_.”

“I’m going to,” Harry muttered, “but we don’t need to rush. I’m going to take such good care of you Draco. Going to make you feel good.” 

Harry spent the next few minutes kissing Draco and letting the other man catch his breath. Then Draco lay back and let his legs splay open, invitatory and so very sensual. Draco didn’t need to use words to tell Harry that he was ready to be stretched open and welcoming by his husband's clever hands. Harry unscrewed the stiff lid off the lube and scooped out a dollop, spreading the wetness all around around Draco’s entrance. 

“So fucking beautiful,” Harry whispered, pushed a finger into Draco’s fervent heat. His beloved’s arse was tight around his hand and Harry took the opportunity to gaze at his husband’s tiny bump, already so warm and so present beneath his belly button. 

Draco and he had always known their bodies had been built for each other’s pleasure and pregnancy had only enhanced their intimacy. 

Draco had wanted sex even more regularly, which was no meant feat but it’d been an all abiding pleasure for Harry to keep him satisfied. He’d had to find ever more creative ways to work around Draco’s bump, especially when the blond wizard had reached the third trimester and his belly had been as round and as heavy as a cauldron. 

He’d lain his husband down on his side, hitching a leg over his hips and they’d fucked like two spoons, tender and intimate… 

“Thinking again, Potter?” Draco asked, his grey eyes flicking open. His brow furrowed. “Is there something wrong? Your hands… They’ve slowed down. If you’re tired from work or-”

“No, I’m not,” Harry interrupted, speeding up once more. “Swear to Merlin. Just smitten by the sight of you. Can you really blame me?”

Draco quirked a smile at Harry. “Maybe not,” he agreed. “Can you add more fingers now, love? I really want to feel the stretch.”

Harry nodded and he added a second and then a third finger, captivated by his husband’s unconscious noises of enjoyment. Draco was stunning, and was putting on quite the show for Harry, palming his steadily leaking cock while sweat beaded at his brow, his pale skin blotchy with red patches where his pumping blood was close to the surface. 

Harry gave Draco a moment to acclimatise, not wanting to hurt him. “You feel ready, sweetheart,” Harry said, pulling out his fingers satisfied that Draco could accommodate him. He leant over and pressed a lustful, salacious kiss onto Draco’s mouth.“You ready to have sex?”

“More than,” Draco whispered. 

Draco slid into position between Harry’s thighs, spreading his legs wide, open and gorgeous. Harry lined up his cock and slowly pushed home. Even now this was still the moment that Harry enjoyed the most. He was still overcome by the pure intimacy of being inside Draco. Needy low-pitched noises left Harry’s throat at that first tight clench of Draco’s body. 

“I love you,” Harry repeated, his hips nudging up against his beloved’s arse cheeks as he bottomed out. “I love you. You’re mine, Draco. I love you. Every part of you.”

Harry didn’t want their sex to be too rough. Often their lovemaking was unrestrained and wild but today Harry wanted to take his time. He rolled his hips slowly, making each of his thrusts deep, profound and careful. The effect felt slightly different to usual but Harry didn’t mind. Each and every time was fantastic with Draco. Slow and passionate was just as amazing as hard and frantic. 

Harry knew from the curl of his husband’s lip that he was brushing Draco’s prostate on each stroke. Draco’s body felt brilliantly tight around his cock, all pliable perfection. Harry knew that he could easily come like this and he let himself get lost in the passion of the moment, stroking his hand over the hard muscles of Draco’s thighs… 

“Fuck me harder, Potter!” Draco muttered, interrupting his reverie.“What’s bloody wrong with you today? You’re shagging me like I'm some precious fucking antique Harry!” His grey eyes flashed with annoyance and desperation. “Normally you’d be nailing me into the sodding _mattress_ by now-”

Harry lost his rhythm at Draco’s reaction so he pulled out to take a breather. He didn’t just want to blurt out their big news but every part of Harry’s psyche was telling him that he had to be cautious. 

This wasn’t just about Draco and himself any more; it was about their new baby and keeping them safe. Thing was, Harry knew that he should have told Draco about the baby _before_ they’d slept together. Telling him now would seem like Harry been keeping deliberate secrets.

“You weren't enjoying yourself?” Harry asked. 

“It’s not that,” Draco muttered, his fingers trailing through the dark hair that patterned Harry’s chest. His cheeks had gone a little red and Harry though he looked a bit embarrassed. “It’s just… Well, normally you can’t resist me! I’ve been fantasising about your cock since the minute you left.” Draco glared up defiantly at Harry from his position on their bed.“And I keep getting half-hard just dreaming about you. I’ve had to wank off three times since Monday! I feel I’ve reverted back to a bloody teenager or-”

Harry gave Draco a long, reassuring kiss. Everything that his husband was describing was typical of the hormones flooding Draco’s bloodstream and was all very familiar from his earlier pregnancy. 

“That’s all okay,” Harry reassured, pulling Draco up to his feet. “Never be ashamed to ask for whatever you need. That’s what I’m here for.” He moved Draco’s hand down onto his own very erect penis. 

“See what you do to me? It’s _me_ that can’t resist _you_ … I’m sorry. It’s your sore back? From Sunday? I know you've not been feeling a hundred percent and I didn’t want to make you feel worse. You know how I worry.”

Draco seemed to accept Harry’s white lie. He gave Harry’s length a delicious stroke, squeezing it in a tight grip just exactly how he knew Harry liked. “Shall we finish then?” Draco asked, giving Harry a libidinous wink. “Isa won’t nap forever… As we were?”

Harry shook his head. He didn’t want to end their lovemaking in their bed. He’d had a better idea. 

“No. Come on, love,” Harry said, taking Draco’s hand off his member and knotting his fingers through his own. “I know what we’ll both enjoy.” 

Harry stood and he led Draco by the hand to their en-suite. He switched on the shower and with a flick of his wand charmed it to the exact right temperature. An extension charm increased the dimensions of the cubicle to fit them both comfortably. “I’m going to finish you off in there,” Harry answered. “I know how much you enjoy the heat of the water jetting over you.”

Both Draco and he had loved shower sex when Draco was pregnant with Isa. The heated water running over his aching muscles had been a comfort and a balm to Draco while they’d petted and kissed, unable to get enough of each other’s bodies. 

Harry had really enjoyed the caregiving that his husband had craved, shampooing Draco’s hair and gently washing Draco’s swollen waist as their hard cocks had frotted and slid between the pair of them. The wizardsgot into the cubical and kissed for a moment under the streaming, heated water. Harry soaped up his hands and glided them over Draco’s sides. His fingers skittered over his husband’s tiny belly, but they didn’t linger. The warm rivulets running speedily over their bodies was evoking their muscle memories, making both of them very aroused and very relaxed indeed. 

“Mmm,” Harry admired. “You look so splendid. Turn around for me, sweetheart. Let me get you into a good position”

Draco did, Harry’s hand on his lover’s hips. Draco always got quite dizzy when he was pregnant and Harry didn’t want him to slip over the tiles. 

The blond wizard braced himself against the marble wall and positioned his bottom so that Harry could enter him with ease. His husband didn’t need any further preparation. Harry lined himself up and pushed up and into Draco’s fluttering arsehole without a struggle. “That’s right,” Harry rambled, thrusting into his darling under the racing water. “I love you. Going to look after you. Going to make you feel so good.”

“Godric yes! Fuck, but it’s all brilliant,” Draco moaned, rocking his hips back onto the source of his pleasure. “Love fucking you in the shower like this!”

Harry held onto Draco and kissed him wherever he could reach, licking water from his husband’s neck and from the angular lines of his shoulders. They moved together, their bodies synchronised and for half a moment Harry almost forgot they were two separate people. 

Draco gasped and whined, throwing his head back and keening noisily. There was so much trust in his actions and Harry felt his body shudder with both desire and pride. This sex was exactly what they both needed. It was deep and hard enough so that Draco could really feel it, but nowhere near frenzied enough that Harry had to worry about hurting their baby. 

Pleasure rose in Harry as he fucked his sweetheart. He caressed Draco’s cock in line with his thrusts, drawing out low moans with every tug. 

“Look at you,” Harry muttered into the shell of Draco’s ear. “Taking every inch of my cock and loving every moment.”

“Make me come,” Draco wept. “Need it, Harry. _Ah!_ Need it so badly-”

Harry gave into his lover’s demands, kissing Draco briefly before he stroked him over the edge. Harry bit his lip hard, holding Draco’s weight as his beloved orgasmed with Harry’s murmured name on his lips. Ribbons of come painted the shower wall. 

The whole world shrank to the pair of them as Harry’s head swam and the blood pounded though his ears. Harry felt his balls draw up close to his body as he pulsed deep into Draco’s arsehole, the fiery wetness spurting as he drowned beneath the waves after wave of pleasure.

“Sweet Circe and all the deities,” Harry laughed as he pulled out his spent cock. He caught an exhausted Draco in his arms and kissed the top of his head. “I’m not wordy like you, love so I don’t have any way to describe that except amazing. _Wow_. That was a morning shower I won’t soon forget.” 

Draco was lax and lazy within the safety of his arms, entirely blissed out from his own climax. His eyes were shiny, and his skin was flushed, and Harry couldn’t remember him ever looking more delectable. 

“Thank you,” Draco whispered in a broken voice, walking trembling fingers down the muscles of Harry’s upper arm. “Merlin but I needed that _so_ badly, love… Felt like I’d been dosed with a love potion or as if I’d had a dose of bloody sex pollen! I dreamt about you last night, Harry. Dreamt about you fucking me and then I couldn’t get the images out of my head. Something’s different about me lately, love. I just can’t put my finger on what it is.”

Harry could though, and he skirted his hand down, tracing a runnel of water as it chased its way over the softening curves of Draco’s tummy. 

Vivid, sensuous dreams had been a part of his husband’s last pregnancy and Draco had taken to waking Harry, desperate for his touch at the oddest of hours. 

“Well, you’d have known if you’d got a dodgy owl delivery,” Harry replied evenly, pouring out a galleon-sized amount of lemon shampoo into his hand before massaging it into Draco’s hair. “Letters to Auror’s homes are automatically scanned for rogue hexes and potions.” 

Harry took the shower-head down and rinsed Draco off. “So you don’t need to worry about hexes. You know it’s nothing dicey. I love that you want me,” Harry concluded. He stood still so Draco could rub de-knotting lotion into his own head. “I was put on the Earth to make you happy. Satisfying you means the world to me.” 

Draco scoffed at Harry’s twee comment. 

“Hardly. I can think of a _few_ reasons, other than the gift of regular orgasms, why you were placed here on the Earth,” Draco said, frowning at a particularly stubborn tangle on Harry’s head and trying to unpick it with a finger. “Specifically your saving the world. _Merlin_. Have you spent the last two days rolling around in the mud? Your hair is a veritable mess of knots.”

Harry would have replied but Isadora chose that moment to interrupt their shower. A noisy wail broke through their conversation. It was the sound of the monitoring spell working, warning them that Isa no longer wished to be away from her two daddies. 

Their little girl was ready to play, and be busy for the rest of the day, and that was absolutely fine with Harry. He’d missed her immensely in the few days they had been apart. “I’ll sort out Isa,” Harry said, opening the door and stepping onto the bathmat. “And you can have a few more minutes to finish up, love. I’ll go and get her sorted.”

“Knew there was another reason why I kept you around,” Draco smiled. “Best husband ever. Love you, Harry.”

Harry spelled his hair and body dry and squinted into the mirror before Scourgifying his teeth. “Yeah,” he replied. “The feeling’s mutual. I happen to love you a little bit too.”

Harry took a detour on his way to Isa’s bedroom, pulling on his boxer shorts and Accio’ing his favourite Levi jeans from the clean washing pile. He stumbled into them as he walked across the hall, only hooking the last button up as he opened his daughter’s door. 

Isadora was smiling, springy and entirely refreshed from her nap. “Dadadaaaaa!” she shouted, trying to catch his rather bouncy hair. 

“Ah ah,” Harry admonished, giving her a big kiss and dexterously moving her down to his hips so that his head was out of reach. “You’re just as obsessed with my hair as your other daddy is, Isa-baby. Well, I can assure you that it isn’t any fun to have this Potter hair, my little love. I haven’t been able to brush it since I was… Maybe six?” 

Harry tickled her nose as he carried her over to his and Draco’s bedroom. Draco had decided keep her changing unit in there because it provided the easiest access to their en-suite.  
“Well done on looking after your daddy while I was busy catching baddies,” Harry whispered into her ear and making her giggle. “He still hasn’t worked out that he’s got a new baby in his tummy. I don’t think it’ll be much longer though.” 

Harry noticed that his beloved had already chosen an outfit for Isadora to wear post-nap and he snapped open the poppers on her sleep-suit before replacing Isa’s nappy, wrapping it in a bubble charm and expelling it to the bin. Then he rolled stripy green leggings onto her kicking legs and helped a jumper embroidered with a mushroom and toadstool pattern over her head to complete her look. 

“Absolutely lovely,” Harry complimented, brushing a curl behind her ear. “As pretty as any picture.”

The two of them settled on the double bed to wait for Draco to join them. Harry cast an Aurorae spell on the ceiling and the two of them watched, fascinated as the coloured lights glided and danced over every surface. 

“Daddy won’t be long,” Harry said as he Accio’ed a pair of purple socks and popped them over her toes. “Much better. We don’t want your feet feeling the cold.”

Draco joined Isa and Harry only a few minutes later, his blond hair still soft and dishevelled from the shower and the grey fluffy towel wrapped around his middle his only clothes. A few tiny droplets of water shone where his drying spell had missed them. Isa thought the sight of him was wonderful and she was keen to tell him so. “Dadadadaaa,” burbled, waving her arms. “Dadadaaa!”

“My _joli bebe_. What a good little girl you are. Thank you for giving your daddy and me a few minutes to get reacquainted,” Draco smiled, his eyes visibly brightening at the simple sight of his daughter. He crouched beside Isa and gave her a sweet little kiss. “ _Mmm_. Thank you Potter. I feel more than brilliant now.” Draco stood up and yawned softly, grey eyes following the Aurora Borealis undulate over the walls for a second before he spoke again. “And a surprise afternoon with my husband as well. I’m a lucky wizard.” 

Draco went over to his wardrobe and Harry watched him select a thin cotton shirt and a pair of grey trousers. He gave them both a sceptical look and held them up for Harry’s approval. 

“The azure blue?” Draco asked, looking over at Harry. “I’m never sure about this one. Do you think it strips my complexion?” Draco held it up to his front and turned around. “What had you planned for the rest of the day?” he asked, holding the clothes up before himself in the mirror. “Before I received your patronus I’d planned to take Isa here for a walk along Diagon Alley. I wanted to pick up a few bits of food and some other supplies that we need for my birthday party on Sunday.” Draco shook his head and threw the shirt in Harry’s direction. “You wear it,” he muttered. “In fact, you can keep it. Would you like to come along with us? Or are you wanting to catch up on your sleep for a couple of hours?”

Harry pulled the shirt over his head and cast a wandless tailoring spell to give it a better fit over his far broader shoulders. The material was soft and gauzy beside his skin. Even if they were married for another hundred years Harry didn’t ever think he’d ever get used to the luxurious clothes that Draco wore as a matter of course. 

“Nah. The last thing I want is more time away from you both,” Harry replied, picking up Isadora and placing her in the middle of the bed. He stood and set the safety charms on each of the sides so she couldn’t wriggle off. before cleaning his glasses with the hem of the shirt. “And we’ll get some lunch from the cafe,” he said, stepping over to stand beside Draco in front of the mirror before cleaning his glasses with magic. 

His husband had pulled on his trousers and was letting the waist settle into place while he buttoned up a more subtle slate-grey shirt. Harry took a moment to set his hair tidy with a charm and tucked in the hem of his shirt. Beside him Draco was pulling a very aggrieved expression. He’d pulled on a pair of boxer shorts which still fit well, but he was having a touch more trouble trying to force the button of his trousers together. 

“I’m assuming this is _your_ doing,” Draco muttered, once again trying to get the two sides to meet. He turned to face Harry and sighed dramatically. His husband’s little belly poked out between the two sides of material and Harry had to force down a daft urge to give it an affectionate pat. “I’ve asked you a _dozen_ bloody times to stay away from the housekeeping charms.” Draco groaned and tried to do up his trousers a final time but the button simply refused to do his bidding, “but _no_ , you wade in, waving your wand like you’re in the midst of a ruddy Auror raid! Remember what Flitwick used to say back at school? _A heavy-handed touch is often too much!_ -”

Harry focussed rifling through his sock drawer. He knew that if he looked at Draco’s face or worse at his tummy then he’d be sure to laugh. His beloved’s face made it abundantly clear that he wouldn’t appreciate either Harry’s amusement or the news that not a single item in his wardrobe would be fit him after a few more weeks had passed by.

“ _So flick your wands lightly and your charms will be sprightly_ ,” Harry finished off, knotting his belt as he said the words. “And, whilst I admit that my charmwork can be a bit hit and miss on occasion, that’s hardly my fault! You might recall that I had a fair few other things to think about at school! Besides, after I ruined Isa’s Christening gown I swore to you that I’d not touch the washing spells again and I _haven’t_. Swear to Merlin!” He gave Draco a cheeky smirk. “And, as you might recall, I haven’t actually stepped through our floo in days-”

That answer didn’t suit Draco one little bit. Harry watched the blond wizard shove his trousers down his legs and kick them off in a temper. He reached into the wardrobe and pulled out a navy pair that still fitted rather tightly around his husband’s middle. 

“Circe’s bloody tits,” Draco spat out, staring daggers at his reflection. “These ones are nearly as bloody bad! _Ugh_. I know I’ve eaten a fair few Honeydukes toffee and coconut cremes while Isa’s been napping but I didn’t think that I’d actually gotten _fat_.” 

Harry watched as Draco examined himself from every angle, his hands on his hips. He made a little tutting noise, not at all pleased with what his eyes were telling him. 

“You’re not fat,” Harry disagreed, letting his hand drift around Draco’s waist. “Not one bit, lovely. Your body has changed since having Isa but that’s no bad thing.” He let his hand drift down to cup Draco’s bum. “ _Mm_. I hope you can tell how much I fancy you.”

Draco gave Harry a thin smile and the two of them listened to their daughter babble and laugh on the bed behind them. She couldn't crawl through the magicked barrier and was finding her game of rolling against it extremely entertaining. 

“I suppose I do,” Draco admitted sullenly. He looked over at Isadora and Harry saw the annoyance in his face start to soften. “I know you shouldn’t say it about your own but she really is lovely, isn’t she?”

“She really is,” Harry readily agreed, wanting to tell Draco about the other lovely baby growing safely inside of him but knowing that now wasn’t the time. All Harry could do now was ensure his hormonal, pregnant husband felt better about himself and that he enjoyed a stressless afternoon. “As are you! It doesn’t matter about these trousers, sweetheart,” Harry said, spelling them to fit Draco more comfortably. “Just fix them with magic or we can buy you some new ones later. Whichever you like! Life’s much too short to dwell on these things.”

Draco shook his head, wiping away a stray tear with the back of his hand. 

These rapid mood swings and sudden rushes of emotion were so typical of pregnant Draco that Harry could hardly credit his husband hadn’t cottoned on yet to the big changes happening in his body. This emotionality could hardly be easy for the blond wizard, not when his formative years had groomed him for a life of stiff Pureblood respectability. 

Now Draco’s emotions were fluctuating and powerful, spilling out of him at inopportune moments. “And now I’m weeping like a witch. Fat _and_ crying. Gods but I’m a mess, Potter. Don’t know how you put up with me.”

Harry unhooked his hands from Draco’s waist before moving his husband’s fingers away from his face. He kissed the back of his husband’s hand. 

“You don’t need any putting up with, Malfoy. You’re still the same sexy wizard you always were.” His finger grazed over Draco’s wedding ring, the twin of the one he wore on his own finger. “The same man I married. Shall we get going though?” Harry asked, knotting his fingers through Draco’s own. “I’ve already caught a Dark Wizard this morning as well as shagging you senseless. I think I deserve a coffee and a bacon sandwich.”

~*~*~

It was much too difficult to floo over to Diagon so Harry and Draco made the decision to walk, Harry pushing Isadora across the pavement in her pushchair. 

Luckily, their home wasn’t very far from the Leaky Cauldron entrance to wizarding London and the early June weather was idyllic too. Draco had insisted that he coat Isadora and Harry in a thick layer of sunscreen potion before they left before proudly placing a floppy hat decorated with an embroidered snitch upon Isa’s head. 

Harry had never gotten over how popular their little family were with the local Muggles and several of them stopped to say their good afternoons as the three of them walked past. “Such a little _princess,_ ” cooed Mrs. McGlinty from two doors down and Harry felt his chest puff out proudly. 

Draco seemed pleased too, though he always feigned nonchalance about such comments. Harry negotiated a pothole and thought about the future. Draco would have to spend a few months ‘studying plants abroad’ like Harry had told their neighbours when his husband had been pregnant before. 

In reality Draco had spent the last trimester of his pregnancy flooing to the Manor each day to be looked after by a phalanx of House Elves each day before flooing home to be looked after by Harry each evening. It had been an arrangement that had suited Draco perfectly. 

As they walked along Harry filled Draco in with all the gossip from the morning raid. 

“Robards believes that the Potions Professor will crack before much more time passes,” Harry explained, swinging the wheels of the pushchair around as they reached the doorway of the Leaky Cauldron. “Give up the rest of his gang.” Draco opened the door and held it open for him to push Isa though. “And I bloody well hope so. That _Confrerie de la Magie Verte_ are a lousy bunch of criminals. Some of those smuggled ingredients Ron and I found weren't anywhere near the same strength as those available in the London Apothecaries. I’m only glad that none of them got into the hands of the public.”

Draco nodded to the Barwizard as the three of them made their way to the back of the bar lounge. 

“Sounds like the DMLE did well to get the case tied up as quickly as it did.” Draco tapped the wall with his wand and opened the entrance to Magical London. “You should be proud of yourself, Potter,” Draco said. “I certainly am. It was _your_ careful cataloguing that broke the case.” Draco rubbed the base of his back. “That reminds me, love. Can we go to the Apothecary next? Get a bottle of that Lavender muscle balm? These back twinges of mine aren't going anywhere fast.” 

Harry pushed Isadora carefully along the cobbles. As it was a Wednesday afternoon the normal throngs of busy wix were absent and Harry couldn’t help but feel glad. 

It wasn’t that Harry didn’t still love Diagon Alley. The enchantment of the place had never truly left him and as he watched Isa pointing at the owls and the baby crups in the Menagerie with her chubby fingers he could see that his baby was enjoying herself too. 

What Harry loathed were the unconcealed stares of the other shoppers and the sycophantic attitude of some of the storekeepers. Today nobody was giving his family any kind of extra attention and that suited Harry perfectly. 

“I have to admit that I was surprised about Granger,” Draco said as the three of them entered the Apothecary. There were whole shelves there dedicated to babies. Harry spied the colic potion that they’d needed to buy bottle after bottles of when Isa was tiny. 

The Apothecary was a cornucopia of baby products. There were charmed dummies that resisted being lost, as well as potions for stretch marks and for sore nipples too. It didn’t feel like ten minutes since Draco and he had been in there, purchasing two of everything that the baby books had urged them to. 

“I’d have bet my inheritance that Pans would have been the next to get pregnant,” Draco continued, picking up a phial of the eucalyptus poultice that they used on Isa’s chest whenever she was snuffly. “She’s been hinting as much and I _know_ that she’s broody. Kept asking me whether we were thinking of having another baby soon on Sunday too. You know what Potter? She even said we were the _best_ parents she knew!”

Harry wondered if this might be the moment that Draco told him that he was pregnant. “And what did you say?” Harry asked, fishing two galleons out of his wallet to pay for their purchases.

Draco looked at Harry like he’d grown a second head. “I told her that we hadn’t discussed it! Isa’s not even a year old yet, Potter. Mother always told me that you need to enjoy your child’s babyhood before you rush into making number two.” 

Harry thought it was a little late for Narcissa’s pearls of wisdom but he buttoned his lip and they continued on their way to the Chocolate Cauldron Cafe. Harry lifted Isa out of her pushchair and the Elf Waiter led them to a seat under the window, transfiguring one of the seats into a high-chair with a click of his long fingers. 

Harry pulled out his husband’s chair so he could sit down, perusing the menu idly. It was quite the pointless undertaking because every time they visited Harry always ordered exactly the same thing. 

“Can we get a latte, a fizzy pumpkin juice and two bacon sandwiches please?” Harry asked the Elf Waiter who was still lingering a discreet distance away from their table. He took Isa’s bottle and her puree out of his bag before breaking their stasis spell with his wand. 

Harry fed Isa a spoonful before he spoke again.

“I love Cissa but I’m not sure I agree with her. _When_ \- well, _if_ \- we had another baby then we wouldn’t stop appreciating every single one of Isa’s milestones. Her first word… Her first steps.” Harry wiped a spot of carrot from Isa’s chin and she clapped loudly, overjoyed to have both her daddies beside her for once. “Love expands, doesn’t it? When I was growing up-”

“Those repellent Muggles-” Draco muttered, a shiver of disgust washing over his features. Harry didn’t doubt that he would have said more but their Elf Waiter arrived back beside their table just then, bearing their lunch on a levitating tray. “Thank you,” Draco nodded to their server, pausing until he’d moved away. 

“Repellent. That’s the right word to use,” Harry said, taking a sip of his latte. He hadn’t realised just how famished that he’d been until his food had been placed in front of him. “What was truly repellent was what the Dursleys made me believe about _myself_ … I suppose I thought that love was a limited resource… That it had to be parcelled out. Reserved and rationed, even. But that’s rubbish, isn’t it? I mean, I love both of you.” Harry made a sweeping motion with his hand, taking in Draco and Isa both. “I love you with all of my heart and if- _when_ \- we’re lucky enough to get pregnant again then I know I’ll feel exactly the same. We’re a good team, Malfoy. Pansy was right about that much! We _are_ brilliant parents.” Harry put down his latte and took hold of Draco’s hand in his own. Now was the time, Harry decided. Time to seize the unicorn by the horns. Time to jump on his broomstick. “And judging by a couple of things I’ve noticed-”

“Oh _Merlin!_ ” Draco gasped, his hand flying from Harry’s hand and straight up to cover his mouth. 

Draco jumped to his feet and pushed back his chair with scraping noise. It was loud, very sudden and all the other customers in the cafe turned to stare at their family as Draco darted as fast as he could towards the loo. 

The shock of the commotion made Isadora howl in anguish, fat tears rolling down her red cheeks. Harry lifted Isa out of her high-chair and comforted her with a gentle cuddle, all the time feeling like London's biggest prat. _Bacon_. How could he have been so bloody oblivious? The mere scent of the stuff had made Draco part with the contents of his tummy with Isadora and it seemed that was a pattern that was only set to continue. 

“Oh my little love,” Harry said, letting Isadora rest her head on the silky material of his shirt and rocking her gently. “Daddy Draco didn’t mean to frighten you, sweetpea. Circe, but it’s not easy to tell him about the new baby, is it? Something always seems to happen.” 

Harry called over to the Elf Waiter and asked him to hurriedly clean away the remains of their sandwiches. “There wasn’t anything wrong with them at all. My husband’s having a… Well, he’s having touch of the Muggle ‘flu,” Harry assured the Elf as Draco rejoined them, his face still a little green around the gills. 

The blond wizard slumped back into his chair and rubbed his belly in little circular motions. Harry thought he looked like the most stereotypical pregnant person that had ever lived and only wished that Draco could see himself like he did. “Come on love,” Harry said kindly. “Let’s get you some fresh air.”

“Gods,” Draco said as they hastily left the cafe. The next stop on their trip was Frobisher’s Foodstuffs and Grocery to buy the remainder of Draco’s list. Harry thought they’d make their way home after that and enjoy a quiet afternoon there. “I feel rotten, Harry. Why can’t I shake this off?”

Harry didn’t reply, not trusting himself to not just blurt out the truth. Before many minutes had passed the three of them had arrived at Frobisher’s. Harry popped Isadora into a metal trolley, securing her to the seat with a sticking spell. 

Their little girl was fascinated by the brightly coloured bottles and the glossy boxes that crowded and teetered over every surface. She stuck out her arms, burbling and babbling as she tried to make a grab for everything in her reach. 

Draco said very little as they walked around, focussing instead on choosing their shopping. Harry didn’t think his husband looked all that well. Draco kept yawning, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Harry paid for their shopping and set Isa back into her pushchair while Draco shrank their bags down with a Reducio. He popped them underneath his daughter and the three of them emerged back out into the afternoon sunlight. 

They ambled home slowly, enjoying the unusual treat of a weekday afternoon spent in each other’s company and the sight of the bustling window displays. 

The newest Firebolt 3000 bobbed in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, sleek and dangerous and mannequins wearing Hogwarts uniforms stood in Twillfitt and Tattlings. Harry felt his heart twist awkwardly at the sight of the green and burgundy. Now that he was a dad himself, eleven seemed unbearably young to send a child away to live at school. 

“I’m glad we’re nowhere near that age,” Draco said, seeming to read Harry’s mind. “All I can remember from my first year at Hogwarts was an unendurable sense of loneliness. I was so anxious to make Father proud… We’ll do better with Isa, won’t we Harry? I never want her to feel like that.”

“We _already_ do better,” Harry replied, looking over at Draco, over at the shirt that skirted ever so slightly over the small swell of his belly. He smiled kindly at his worn-out husband. “You have a nap when we get back. You look bushed. I’ll look after our little pixie.”

“If you’re sure,” Draco said, taking over the handles of the pushchair as they began walking again. “I haven’t felt right since I smelt that damned bacon sandwich. It must have been off or something. Bloody _Elves_. If I didn’t know better I’d think that the whole bunch of them were trying to do me in.”

Harry nodded, leaning over to brush a kiss on Draco’s cheek. 

“Of course I’m sure. Whatever you need to do Draco. After all, you’re doing the hard work. Carrying-” Harry stopped himself, suddenly aware of what his next works would have been. Luckily Draco was too focussed on the pavement before him to have noticed his little slip up. “ _Carrying_ our family and looking after us while I’m at work. I don’t tell you often enough how much I appreciate it, love.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, though.” Draco murmured, wheeling Isa around the pavement sign for Flourish and Botts. His grey eyes drifted over to Harry for a moment. “But being at home with Isa isn’t a hardship. It’s my privilege. I mean, I know I _talk_ lots about going back to work- and one day, certainly, I _will_ \- but I enjoy my days. I enjoy making sure that Isadora feels really loved.” 

As they made their way through the Leaky Cauldron and left magical London Harry daydreamed about the day that had followed their wedding. Draco had shown him an ancient magical textbook that he’d pinched from the library at Malfoy Manor, its leather cover dust-covered and cracked with age. 

“I can bear your children,” Draco had said, his fingers sliding over the parchment text and a scratchy ink drawing of cycles of the Moon. “All Pureblood wizards can. If we have sex with our bonded partner on the night the Moon is fullest, then our magical signatures will merge. If we’re really lucky then sometimes little bits break off and that grows into a womb capable of carrying a baby. I’d like to give you a family, Harry. You’re the love of my life.”

Harry had felt a visceral desire for that family that Draco had promised, a longing that hadn’t ever left him. He’d known then that he, and Draco would be together until the day that one of them died. 

The two wizards walked back through the streets of Muggle London in an easy, comfortable silence, both of them lost in their thoughts. 

This was the life that Harry had always coveted and soon their happiness would increase even further. 

Their new tiny baby was already growing, safe inside Draco’s womb that their bond and their magic had created together and Harry didn’t think that his life could get better than that. 

~*~*~


	5. Saturday 5th June 2005

**_Saturday 5th June 2005_ **

“Happy birthday to you,” Harry sang, Isadora sat on his lap. It was finally the morning of Draco’s birthday and a small shiny box sat on the kitchen table between the pair of them. His official party wasn’t due to start for several more hours but Draco liked to spread his gifts over the whole of the day and Harry enjoyed indulging him. His husband loved nothing more than presents and a bit of a fuss. “You’re getting ancient, that’s true! But we love you immensely! Happy birthday to you!” 

“It’ll be you next,” Draco warned, laughing. Harry thought he was looking a little better and there hadn’t been any more attacks of nausea.“Two more months and then you’ll be following me over into your dotage. I’m an old man, Potter! Twenty five and already father. I can hardly believe it.” Draco reached over, and picked up the first of many presents that Harry had brought for him. “Time vanishes far too quickly.” Draco ripped off the wrapping paper. “A _Hori Hori_ knife!” Draco said, with a sharp gasp of pleasure. He turned the keen-edged Japanese trowel over in his hand. “Exactly what I wanted. It seems my incessant hinting has paid off, Harry! Thank you, love. I can’t wait to get it dirtied up in our garden.” 

“So how does being twenty-five feel?” Harry asked, settling Isa into her high-chair. “Uh oh, Isa-baby,” Harry murmured, grabbing hold of his daughter’s hand. Their little girl was very keen on the glossy paper covering their table and she kept reaching for it, her attention entirely taken by the shiny distraction. “That’s paper Isa. It isn’t for eating, chick. Little witches need to eat proper breakfast.” Harry said, picking up her bowl of mashed banana from the table. 

He expertly scooped up a small spoonful and slid it between her lips. Their baby didn’t need much help any more and Harry knew that it wouldn’t be long until she was taking her first wobbly mouthfuls. Isadora was getting bigger and more independent with every single day that passed. 

“Not so different to twenty-four,” Draco replied, placing the sharp garden instrument high on a shelf and magicking the wrapping paper across the table and into the bin. Isadora wasn’t happy to see it disappear. She frowned, babbling her annoyance to her two daddies. 

“They’ll be other things for you to enjoy today, _ma petite cherie_ ,” Draco said kindly, handing Harry her warm bottle of milk. That cheered her up and Isa guzzled it enthusiastically, even though she’d already eaten most of her banana. Draco looked happily up at his husband. “And then, when September arrives, it’ll be this little one’s birthday too.” Draco tickled just under Isa’s ear. “You’ll be _one_ , my utter darling. We’ll have to give her a big party, Harry. A garden party at the Manor like I used to have when I was little.”

Harry smiled, amused by Draco’s suggestion. 

“In September? That’d be far too cold. I'm shivering just thinking about it.” Harry helped Isa to better angle her bottle and she soon suckled all the milk down into her tummy. Her appetite was growing all the time. Harry looked over at his husband, raising a teasing eyebrow. “And I've never _quite_ trusted those peacocks your family have strutting around the place.” He scraped around the edge of the bowl with his spoon and posted the last of the banana into Isa’s mouth. 

“How did nearly a whole year pass?” Draco wondered aloud as he collected together the breakfast pots. He balanced them in the sink and set a housekeeping spell to wash and dry them. “Merlin. It doesn’t seem like any time at all since she was born.”

“Still the best day of my life,” Harry reminisced. Their daughter had been overdue by several days and their Magi-midwife had been making noises about inductions and caesareans, neither of which Draco had wanted. 

In the end, Isadora’s birthday had begun with a huffy, miserable Draco sending Harry off to work only to call him back three hours had passed. 

Draco had been spending his days gardening at the Manor, attempting to trim back their elderly Wiggentree and had been stood up on his tiptoes, trying to cut off a stubborn branch when his waters had suddenly broken. Draco had soaked his clothes though, terrified the poor Elf that had been sent by Narcissa to spy on him out of her wits and had begun experiencing full contractions only ten minutes later. 

Isadora had been born in the St. Mungos Magi- Midwifery Ward that very same afternoon. Their baby had been sticky with venix, and squalling loudly at the affront of being evicted from her very snug and conformable home, but neither of those things had mattered a sickle. 

Both Draco and he had sobbed when she had been placed in Draco’s waiting arms and Harry had found himself entirely unable to stop staring at her. Even now the memory was powerful, vivid and still made his whole body tingle with emotion. 

“Mine too,” Draco agreed. He leant over and kissed Isa’s curly head. “Well, _most_ of it was rather undignified and most definitely painful but, once she finally decided to make her appearance, she was everything that I never knew I’d always wanted.”

Harry played with the rim of his coffee mug. It was his favourite one, decorated with a picture of Draco on the beach at Brighton, his blond hair still short when the photograph had been taken. The Draco on the mug winked over and over at his Harry, capricious and lovely. 

Perhaps this was going to be the moment that Draco told him about his pregnancy and admitted that he’d been stringing Harry along for days, pretending to be unaware when he was anything but. 

Draco didn’t say a word about being pregnant though. All he did was unclip Isadora from her high-chair and pop her onto his hip, rubbing her back to make her burp up her trapped air. “That’s much better,” Draco soothed before he turned his gaze onto Harry. “Our little puffskein here needs a nappy change,” Draco said, wrinkling his nose and making for the door. “I’m going to get her bathed and changed, love. I’ll not be long.”

It didn’t matter that Draco was still oblivious. 

By the end of today, Draco’s twenty-fifth birthday, Harry was going to make his husband aware of their new baby. 

As soon as he was sure that the blond wizard was upstairs Harry dashed over to his Auror kitbag. He collected the three extra birthday presents that he’d brought on Diagon during his dinner hour the day before. With a sweep of his wand they were returned to life size and Harry speedily hid them at the back of the settee where Draco was sure not to see them. 

If these special presents didn’t help Draco to see the truth of the new little person growing within his belly then Harry wasn’t sure what exactly would. Probably only a trip to the bloody Medi-Witch’s office and a positive pee stick in his hand. Harry only hoped that Draco would be as happy about their baby as he already was, and that he wasn’t ignoring the symptoms because he didn’t really want to believe in them. 

Harry wondered if his husband might even be amused at how naive he’d been. Harry smiled at the idea. Their friends liked to tease Harry about his occasional obliviousness but this was cluelessness on an entirely different tier. Harry planned to tease Draco about his missed pregnancy for the rest of their lives. 

~*~*~

The hours of Draco’s birthday spun by as rapidly as any other weekend day and it seemed that no time at all had passed before Harry was casting a Tempus spell and realising in a panic that the whole morning had passed. It was very nearly midday. 

Draco was busily sautéing potatoes, chopping green beans and checking that the cooking spells that he’d set were working their magic in their kitchen. He had kicked Harry out, claiming that he was a giant oaf who made it his life mission to stand wherever was most in Draco’s way. 

Harry didn’t mind Draco’s frazzled temper though. He was enjoying playing with Isadora and making sure that she didn’t get herself too untidy before the arrival of their guests. 

Their best-friends were bringing their children over to help celebrate Draco’s birthday and they were expecting Andromeda, Teddy and Narcissa as well. It was unusual for the Potter-Malfoy family to have so many people over at once and so Harry had needed to magically extend their dining room to ridiculous proportions. 

Harry had swapped up Isa’s top for the first of Draco’s special birthday presents. It was a cottony soft jumper that he’d spied in Gladrags Wizardwear and Harry was pleased to see that it fitted her petite form perfectly. There was a design of Quidditch rings around the hem as well as an embroidered message that declared ‘ _this big sister is a keeper_.’ It was precious and entirely the sort of item that Draco would decry as mawkish and Muggle-esque but Harry couldn’t imagine how its message would fail to register with his husband. He really hoped that Isadora’s jumper would finally do the trick. 

Isa knew that today was a special day and her mood was delightful. She looked up, giving Harry a gummy smile and he pushed her little model of the Hogwarts Express towards her. 

The small witch wasn’t all that interested in her toy steam train, however. She wanted her other daddy and was hurriedly crawling to the door, her powerful little arms and legs moving in tandem to get her to Draco as soon as she could. 

Harry was ambivalent, amazed by her determination. He was entirely unsure whether to stop her or to let her go and see how quickly she managed to get to her destination. 

Every so often she had taken to shouting ‘dada’ in her biggest voice as she crawled, so that Harry had no doubt as to whom she really wanted. He secretly thought that their girl was bound to be sorted Gryffindor. Isadora was without doubt the most resolute little creature that had ever lived. 

“You naughty niffler” Harry called, chasing after her to give her a tickle. “I’m going to catch you, Isa-baby.” Harry dived out into the hall, pausing to watch Isa pull herself up on the edges of their broomstick cupboard. The small witch shuffled along on her fat little toes, balancing with just a fingertip. 

Harry’s heart jumped into his throat when he realised that a momentous event was occurring. Their little daughter was about to take her very first step. 

“Draco,” Harry shouted, loud enough to rouse his husband over the sound of their dinner cooking. “Come quick love! You’ve got to see this!”

Draco poked his head out of the doorway at exactly the right moment. Isadora stuck out a foot and took a single, quivering and very wobbly step. She gasped in happiness and promptly fell over, rather surprised by all the whooping and cheering of her two daddies beside her. Draco swiped her straight up off the floor and gave her a kiss. 

Tears began to race unbidden down the blond wizard’s face, so Harry guided Draco across to their living room settee, Isadora still in his arms. “Don’t cry, lovely,” Harry said, sitting down beside him. Draco’s emotions were often very tempestuous when he was pregnant and Harry had known him to weep over spilled potion ingredients or an owled card received from one of their friends.

Isadora looked up from her seat on Draco’s knee, trying to work out what she had done wrong. Her greeny-grey eyes were wide and she patted his chest, trying to offer her comfort too. 

Draco wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and he sniffed before he spoke. “She’s growing up,” he said, taking a shallow breath. This time next year she’ll be running about. Isa isn’t our baby any more.”

“But of course she is!” Harry smiled. He wrapped his arms around his family and kissed each of Draco’s cheeks in turn, kissing away the tears. “You do say some daft things Malfoy.” He leant over and kissed Isa’s head too, addressing her but really speaking to his beloved. “You might be our big girl but you’ll always be our baby.” 

Draco seemed mollified by Harry’s words. He wiped away a final tear from the corner of his eye and brought Isadora’s little body to lay close to his chest. “Our very clever baby. Taking your first step on my birthday _ma petite cherie?_ That was clever. Was that your birthday present to me? I can’t wait to tell your grandmother. She’ll be-”

“Godric,” Harry interrupted, a sudden bright idea flashing through his brain. He knew exactly what present to give Draco next. “You don’t have to tell Cissa at all, love! Not when you could show her.” Harry picked Isadora out of Draco’s hands. “You nip back into the kitchen and stasis the dinner. I’ve got another birthday present to give you when you get back.” 

Draco looked a little wary, but he did what he was told and Harry Accio’ed Draco’s birthday present from its hiding place behind the settee. This was a far more elaborate and much bigger gift than Isa’s little jumper and had necessitated a trip to Gringotts for Harry to withdraw a small bag of galleons. It had been worth it though and Harry felt a flurry of nargles in his belly as he waited for Draco’s return.

Isadora was excited by the wash of her daddy’s magic on her skin and the sight of the satiny silver paper and the little girl clapped, burbling and shouting as Draco returned through the door. 

“Harry birthday, Draco,” Harry said, nodding to the present that sat on top of the side table. “This is a special one, love. It’s for all of us really.”

Draco grinned, unwrapping the gift without any further ado. He tore off a strip of the exquisite handcrafted paper and handed it to Harry. Isadora was far more interested in the sound of Harry crumpling the paper than she was in the goblin-wrought silver Pensieve that was hidden inside. Draco looked absolutely overwhelmed by the gift. He opened his mouth but closed it again, merely shaking his head. 

“Do you like it?” Harry asked. “I saw it and I couldn’t not buy it, love. I want to fill it with all our wonderful moments,” he said, the words spilling out of his mouth in a hurried rush. 

Harry placed Isadora safely on the carpet and wrapped his arms around Draco’s shoulders. He could tell that Draco was a little shocked by the gift but he couldn’t blame him. Harry was a little surprised at himself. 

Of course, Draco and he had always carefully conserved all of their memories but their only place to view them had been at the Manor. The Potter-Malfoys had always used the Pensive that had been in Draco’s family for a dozen generations. It would have come into their possession one day but hopefully that wouldn’t be for many years. Their children would be well beyond Hogwarts by that point. 

“I know it’s a lot, love,” Harry said, “but the idea tumbled into my head and I couldn't resist it! I wasn’t trying to replace your family one, love… I just wanted us to be able to watch memories whenever we fancied. Like Isa’s first step there.” Harry let his hand slide down to cup the small swell of Draco’s belly. “And if I’m not mistaken, we’ll have some more wonderful memories to add to it over the next year, Draco. I think there’s a little something that we ought to talk about-”

Harry might have told Draco all then- the words were on the very tip of his tongue- but Isadora decided that was the moment where she really needed to try to eat a piece of the silver paper that had been torn off and littered their floor. 

Draco had a sixth sense for their little daughter’s tricks and within a half a second he’d swooped out of Harry’s hands and picked Isa up from the floor. He gently removed the curl of paper from her hand and vanished it away with wandless magic. 

“That’s not good for your tummy,” Draco admonished with a kiss to her forehead. He popped her onto his hips and turned soft grey eyes back onto Harry. “Look what your other daddy has brought us, baby girl. A Pensive! When you’re just a tiny bit bigger I’ll show you how to use it. You can see yourself when you first arrived in the world.” Draco’s voice broke a little at the end of his sentence and he coughed before he spoke again. He was obviously quite overcome with emotion. “It’s just the most wonderful thing, Harry. It must have cost you half your vault.” 

“It was worth it,” Harry said. He was just about to speak again when Draco laughed, holding Isa up and examining her jumper. He squinted at the words written on her jumper, his brow knotted in confusion. Then he laughed once more. 

“ _This big sister is a keeper?_ ” Draco asked, bringing her little body back to nestle against this chest and rocking her to and fro in the safety of her arms. “Gracious Harry, I do so love you but I suspect that you had no idea what was written on that jumper when you picked it up in the shop?” He smiled broadly and rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Typical Potter. Jumping straight in without thinking. Maybe you need those gorgeous eyes of yours tested again. You saw Quidditch rings and just went and brought it, didn’t you?”

Harry’s body felt similar to the time that he’d been caught out by a miscast Petrificus Totalus during the course of a raid. He wanted to cry out to Draco and tell him about their baby and make him see what he refused to. 

The words were on the edge of Harry’s tongue but, for the life of him, couldn’t seem to get them out of his throat. That was _it_. He wasn’t going to try any longer. Draco would neither be shown or told, and even the most conspicuous of hints weren't penetrating that thick aristocratic skull of his. 

The blond wizard was, of course, none the wiser about Harry’s gigantic internal meltdown. Draco was too busy dancing about with Isadora, whispering into her ear about her daft, wonderful daddy Harry, informing her how short-sighted he was and telling her that Nana Cissa would be here soon. 

Harry was finding the whole situation incredibly frustrating. Even when the evidence was directly in front of his face Draco refused to look. 

By the time that Harry had finally recovered his tongue it was too late to say anything anyway. Their fireplace floo had begun to chime. It was Ron, Hermione and Rose, brushing ash off their shoulders and clutching presents for Draco. Before many minutes had elapsed their house was filled to the brim with all the people in their lives that mattered the most to Harry and Draco. 

The moment had passed and their short conversation about Isa’s jumper had been forgotten by Draco. 

Narcissa held out her arms the moment that she stepped through the fireplace, her face shining with joy as soon as she saw her grandchild. Isa wriggled happily, treating everyone to a loud ‘nana-na na’ that made the whole party laugh. 

“I’m afraid that I can’t offer any of you something even _half_ -decent to drink,” Draco explained, greeting Narcissa with a hug and a kiss. “I checked the wine rack earlier and found, to my utmost surprise that Potter here had removed every single bottle that was even _remotely_ quaffable. We’re on all Butterbeers and juice this afternoon.”

Harry shrugged sheepishly. “There’s been a lot of birthdays in the DMLE the last few weeks,” he fibbed. “You know how it is. I kept taking bottles to work and forgetting to replace them.” 

~*~*~

Even with magic, plating up dinner for the twelve of them had turned out not to be the easiest of tasks. 

Harry had set heating charms on all of the dishes and he and Draco were working together, making sure that all the adults had an equal amount of vegetables, meat and gravy on their plates. Serving dinner for Isadora, Maeve and Rose had been Draco’s first job and their plates were currently sat cooling on the side, their small portions of soft vegetables much more manageable. 

“Merlin’s arse,” Draco hissed, catching the edge of his thumb on the roast potato pan. “I wouldn’t be a Muggle for all the galleons in my sodding vault. How they manage without magic I have _no_ bloody clue.”

Even Harry, veteran of a dozen Dursley dinner parties before he’d ever known he had magic could sympathise with Draco’s astonishment. His husband was getting a little overwhelmed with the array of dishes that had prepared, so Harry nodded over to the children’s plates. 

“Can you mash up the babie's food for them?” Harry asked Draco. “Leave the bits a little bigger for Rose, though. You know how she can fuss sometimes.” 

Harry set an enchantment on their carving knife and it began to slice thin slices of beef from the joint. It smelt delicious and Harry felt his tummy rumble. It’d been hours since breakfast and neither man had eaten much with all the excitement. 

“Typical little Granger-Weasley then,” Draco joked, squashing the carrots and parsnips into a mash. He spooned on some soft potato and added a spot of gravy too. “I wonder if she’s got used to the idea of being a big sister yet? Five galleons she tells Mother and Teddy over dinner.”

“You’re on,” Harry agreed. He set a levitation spell onto the plated dinners and with a twist of his wand had all the plates gliding carefully through into the dining room. Draco followed, the children’s plates held in his hand. 

It didn’t take long before the two wizards had set everyone’s plate down in their allotted place at the table. Harry had transfigured a deckchair into a second high-chair for Maeve and placed it next to Isadora’s usual one. 

They’d have to buy a new high-chair for the new baby, of course and then fit it with the regular baby-proofing charms. The thought made Harry’s chest puff out with happiness. He imagined the four of them sat together at teatime, Draco and he sharing gossip about their day while Isadora played with the new baby, the brilliant big sister that Harry knew she would be. 

Draco called through to their guests and they walked though into the dining room, full of compliments about the feast that Draco had worked so hard to make. “All the dinners are the same,” Harry informed their family and friends. “So please enjoy. You’re all so welcome.”

Draco looked over at Teddy Lupin as they began to eat. “But don’t worry Teds, I skipped the green beans on yours. I know that you’re not much of a fan. I’ll admit, I didn’t put any on my dinner either,” Draco said to his cousin. “I have to confess that I used a Bubble Head charm while I was cooking them. There was something about the smell of them that didn’t sit too well on my stomach.”

“Is that this Muggle ‘flu that you’ve been complaining about for the best part of a month?” Narcissa asked, placing Isadora in her high-chair. She cast a food-repelling charm over the small witch’s clothes before she gave Draco a very incredulous glance. “I can scarcely believe that you’ve not taken yourself to St. Mungo’s before now, Draco dearest. It seems there is hardly any foodstuffs _left_ in London that don’t turn your stomach these last few weeks, darling.”

Even with Harry’s extension spell it was rather a tight squeeze around the table. Pansy sat on her daughter’s left side, rapturous with praise at Draco’s cooking. “She’s normally such a faffy eater,” Pansy admitted, mashing a little of her own potato to give Maeve a second course, “yet it seems that you’ve got the magic touch.” 

Isadora was making short work of her dinner too and Harry felt a sense of peace at the sight. Draco had sworn from the moment that he’d know he was pregnant that he’d make as much of Isadora’s food as he possibly could. Narcissa had wanted them to take in one of the Malfoy Elves but Draco had refused their help as well. 

“I had no understanding or idea about food when I was growing up,” Draco had confessed, mortified. “I think I was six before I even _realised_ that there were kitchens in the Manor.” Harry knew that all of Draco’s hard work had been worth it. Their little daughter was thriving and he had no doubt that their new baby would too. Draco was in his element with his daughter, the very epitome of a natural father. 

Everyone chatted easily as they ate and Ron told everyone the latest DMLE gossip about the _Confrerie de la Magie Verte_.

“Robards was right, as always,” Ron explained to the table. “He’s a clever bloody git. Nothing gets past him. That Potions Professor only had to spend one night in Azkaban before he was ready to spill the cauldron on every sod in his gang… Not that we really needed the confessions. The bloody prat had a list of the smuggled ingredients as long as your wand locked in his Beauxbatons Potions Lab.” He paused, taking a swallow of his Butterbeer. “It’s only a pity that we’ve had to hand the case over to the _Departement Magique pour la Justice_. Don’t know about Harry here but I’d have liked to have see the case through to the end.”

Draco told their friends and family about the Pensieve that Harry had brought for their family, about Isa taking her first steps and about the status of the various plants blooming in his garden. Hermione excitedly showed the whole of the table the tiny scan picture that had been taken at St. Mungos Magi- Midwifery Ward. It looked as if Harry had already lost the bet. Rose had told everybody about her baby sister even before the birthday dinner had begun. 

Before long the food that Draco had spent hours lovingly preparing had been eaten. Everybody was full of compliments for the chef and Draco accepted them all gracefully. Isadora was happily bashing her hands on her high-chair top, smiling at all the people she loved and blowing them kisses. 

The whole dinner had felt warm and sincere and everything that Harry had wanted for his husband’s special birthday. He rounded the table and unclipped Isadora from her high-chair and broke the food-repelling charm with a swish of his wand. Harry sat Isa on his knee, transfiguring a pepper pot into a toy frog to entertain her and to give Draco a bit of a break. 

“I hope everyone has left a bit of extra room,” Narcissa announced after Draco had returned from tidying away their used plates, “because I’ve brought a three-layer chocolate and marzipan cake along with me from the Manor. It was Draco’s most favourite cake when he was little.” 

With a click of her elegant fingers, a gigantic dessert materialised in the middle of their table and even Harry felt a little awed at the sight. It was coated in a thick layer of opulent chocolate sauce and, as he looked on, his mother-in-law Engorgio’d a set of plates that she’d taken from the depths of her handbag. 

“Remember last birthday?” Draco asked Harry, sharing a secret smile with his husband and giving his knee a gentle squeeze. “Mother had the Elves make me chocolate and marzipan then? But I was so pregnant with Isadora? And the marzipan just tasted _abominable_.” He sat back in his chair and filled his fork with a generous taste of the sweet treat. “I’m only glad that I get to enjoy my birthday cake this year! I’m going to have seconds, Potter… Maybe even a third slice. Make up for last year.” 

With no further ado, Draco took a big mouthful. He grimaced and his skin blanched of every bit of its colour right before Harry’s eyes. He forced himself to swallow and took a huge swig of water before coughing and spluttering into a tissue. “It’s _disgusting_ ,” he hissed in a whisper. “Mother’s bloody Elves! It’s just like that sodding Cheesecake… Everything tastes nearly as bad as before? When I was pregnant with Isa and I couldn’t- I couldn’t… Oh… Merlin, Morgana and all the deities!” Draco’s grey eyes grew comically round and his jaw dropped, a dozen subtle and not-so-subtle hints and signs coalescing in his mind. “ _This big sister is a keeper?_ ’ Circe, Potter! I’m bloody pregnant! I’m pregnant and you jolly well _knew_.”

“Finally, there it is!” Harry laughed. Isadora could tell there was something exciting afoot and she bounced excited, waving her toy frog in Draco’s direction and shouting ‘dada dada’ at the top of her voice. “I did know love,” Harry confessed. “For a week. I’ve tried to tell you a couple of times but you seemed a bit determined not to listen. For such a consummate Slytherin you’ve been admirably clueless about everything. I know it’s a surprise but I think it’s brilliant news, Draco.”

By now, the rest of the table had fallen into silence, all of their friends and family eavesdropping shamelessly on their conversation. Narcissa stood up, taking Isadora from Harry’s hands. Their little girl had got fidgety, unsure of why all the adults around her had gone so quiet.

“Thank Merlin for small mercies,” Narcissa said, learning down to brush a kiss on the top of her son’s blond head. “I’ve been waiting _days_ for you to firecall to tell me you were in the family way again. It’s been patently _obvious_ since you nearly passed out at the smell of poor Elsie’s prawn sandwiches. The poor dear was absolutely inconsolable.”

“And I tried to tell you nearly a fortnight ago, darling,” Pansy laughed, laying a calming hand on her best-friend’s arm, drawing Draco’s anxiety stricken eyes away from Harry’s for a moment. “You’ve been far more emotional than usual,” she continued, her soft voice soothing Draco and pulling him out of his panic. “Crying over photos. Even crying at the sight of our children playing together. I have to confess I thought the signs rather unmistakable. Truth be told, I was as close as a fairy’s wing to telling you at the barbecue, love… I jolly well _might_ have done if Potter here hadn’t disturbed us.”

“Godric’s sodding beard,” Draco sighed. He shifted his arm from beneath Pansy’s and rubbed at his face, the shock, excitement and anxiety all battling for prominence. He shook his head, giving the whole table a rueful, exhausted glance. “You’re all such a bunch of utter gits for not telling me. I can scarcely believe this, yet it’s been right in front of me the whole bloody time.” He looked down and hesitantly cupped the small swell of his belly. “ _Literally_ in front of me! I can barely accept that I haven’t noticed-”

Harry stood then, pushing his chair back. He couldn’t abide even another second passing without taking his wonderful, confused, pregnant husband in his arms. He pulled Draco to his feet and embraced him, not caring that everybody was staring at them. 

“Everything is the same as before… The same food aversions, the same aches and pains.” Harry moved his hand down to rest on the small of Draco’s back. “Falling asleep at the drop of a wand… And always diving off to the loo. I only realised last week,” Harry admitted. “When I found you napping in the settee.”

“Gods,” Draco managed, the word barely more than a whisper. “We’re really having another baby. Isa isn’t a year old yet. Merlin. It’s not going to be easy… And she’ll be at her busiest, running about and I’ll get really big and-” Tears filled his eyes and Harry felt his husband’s whole body tremble. “Will we really manage? I know it’s what we wanted but it’s happened _so_ quickly-”

“Yes!” Harry replied, leaning over to kiss both of Draco’s heated cheeks. “Of course we’ll manage. I’ll try and cut down on my hours at work and be here more. Isadora is the brightest star in both of our skies, love. It’s like I’ve said before: love expands and I already love our new baby so much.” Harry held Draco’s body close to his. “And this new baby? They’re a part of you, Draco.” He laid his other hand over his beloved’s middle. “How could I not?”

Draco turned his husband towards the family and friends that surrounded them, everyone of their eyes trained onto the wizard couple. “And we’re not on our own. They’ll have the best grandma-”

“And aunties, uncles and cousins!” Pansy cut in. “You’re not on your own, Draco! You’re loved far more than you realise.”

“Congratulations!” Teddy shouted from Andi’s side, his hair changing to a bright, joyful orange. “Why is everyone crying?! Isn’t this the most brilliant news? This just means that I get another nephew to spoil!” 

Draco burst into floods of tears, burying his head in Harry’s neck and the room just erupted with elation, everybody hugging, shaking hands and kissing. 

Maeve and Isadora both began to sob, dismayed and upset at the noise and sudden hurly burly. Narcissa picked her up though, murmuring quiet words of comfort into the tiny shell of Isa’s ear. Harry knew how much family meant to her and he knew there wasn’t another grandmother in existence who would love his children as much as her. 

“Tell me if you’re not happy,” Harry whispered, holding onto his husband with all his might. “I know this is a shock, love. I didn’t want you to find out like this and I- Well, I know I should have told you straight away… I’m sorry Draco. I was going to tell you on the day, but then that smuggling case blew up in our faces. You deserved to know first and I’m sorry. I didn’t give you enough choice.”

“None of that matters now,” Draco replied while Harry helped him back down into his seat. He was still a little shaky and overwhelmed and the last thing Harry wanted was for him to faint. 

Harry sat down beside and they knotted their fingers together on top of the bump. It seemed a little more pronounced today, as if their new little one had wanted to make themselves known for Draco’s birthday. “This really is happening,” Draco grinned, his cheeks flushing pink. “I’m having another baby. Having _your_ baby, Potter. This is the best birthday gift that I could have asked for.”

“I love you,” Harry said, leaning in to press a small sweet kiss on Draco’s lips. I love you with every part of my being. You, Isadora and our new little one. This life I share with you? It’s everything that I’ve ever needed.”

~*~*~

Harry pulled the living room door closed behind him.

After a messy and very sweet slice of chocolate and marzipan cake, entirely too much playing and teasing from Uncle Teddy and far too much stimulation, Isa had been very hard to settle down to sleep. 

It had taken all of Harry’s ingenuity, his warmest cuddles and all the traditional lullabies that Draco had taught him from his own childhood. Eventually their little pixie had settled down, her tiny eyelashes fluttering closed on her cheek. “She’s finally asleep now though,” Harry said. “So we’ve got a few minutes by ourselves at last.”

Harry had made his escape, setting her monitoring, cooling and safety spells as he’d light-footed it down the stairs, his hours of Auror training enabling him to make a swift, silent escape. He slid into place beside Draco on the settee and placed a loving arm around his husband's shoulders. 

Everything about their room felt safe and familiar: the dusk rolling in from the garden and the delicate wandlight illuminating their dozens of photographs. There was only one thing that was different. Draco’s hand now lay across his small rounded tummy. He hadn’t been able to stop touching it since dinner, his lovely face amazed and almost Stupefied. In retrospect it seemed that the Muggle ‘flu had rather more permanent lifelong effects than Draco had thought possible. 

“Good birthday?” Harry asked, letting his hand drift over to join his beloved’s own. “You liked all of your presents? You’re a tough wizard to buy for, Draco love. Nothing ever seems quite right.”

“I think I’ll remember this one,” Draco replied with a yawn. “A trowel and a Pensieve… Isadora’s first step. Oh, and a new _baby_. I’m not sure how this one could be bettered Potter.”

“I actually do have one last present,” Harry said then. “I wanted to give you this when we were alone.” He slipped his hand across from Draco’s shoulder and Accio’ed his husband's last gift from behind the settee. 

It landed in Draco’s lap with a rustle, all sparkly purple tissue paper and ribbon. Draco shot Harry a perplexed look before he tore off the paper. Inside was a photograph album, bound in simulated dragon hide. “That’ll keep these pictures safe. Even if there was a fire these pictures wouldn’t be damaged.” Draco smiled fondly at the sentiment and together they began to leaf through the pages. 

Harry had mounted pictures from some of their earliest dates in the album. There were snaps of Quidditch games, of Ministry Balls and of breezy, sunny days on the beach. There were images of Draco’s university graduation and of Harry’s promotion to Deputy Lead Auror. Harry had pasted pictures from their engagement party and from their wedding, both of them glorious with matching suits and grins that lit up the room. 

On the final pages were Isadora’s different scan pictures, growing from a tiny beating dot to a fully-formed baby over the course of several months. There were pictures of pregnant Draco too, the wizard looking very expectant and weary, crouching on the grass beside the Alihotsy shrub in the Grimmauld back garden. 

The very last photo was of a newborn Isadora. She was very pink, very tearful and to Harry’s eyes, utterly perfect. 

“This was how I was going to tell you,” Harry explained, showing Draco the dozens of blank pages that followed Isa’s picture. His fingers brushed over the thick, empty parchment “Our lives together have been a blessing that I’d never imagined or expected. All of these pages are going to get filled with happy memories.” Harry pressed a tender, loving kiss onto Draco’s hair. “We’ve made another baby, Draco. Thank you. I love you. Both of you.”

“That we did,” Draco whispered, his tired eyes beginning to flicker closed. “Another little baby, made from our love and just a tiny bit of magic.”

~*~*~THE END~*~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxxxxx


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